The footsteps echoed in the chamber as she proceeded down the long corridor.  A chill filled the air and her body shivered in the thin white robes draped over her skin.  Sybil stopped to rub the goosebumps on her arm to generate more warmth, her ruby red lips pursed thoughtfully as she debated whether or not to enter the main hall.  Hands on the door as she pushed it open just enough to peek through, she saw Everendall Faowind sitting on the throne with a tired expression on his face resting his head in his hands.  Beside him stood the Queen, a comforting hand resting on his shoulder.  Hushed whispers filled the room that the woman was unable to make out.  Prepared to back away to leave them to their intimate moment, she suddenly heard the King say her name.  “Sybil.  Come here.”

His voice was deep, commanding, and as always, she found herself obeying.  The main hall was adorned with exquisitely embroidered tapestries hanging up along the walls.  Large ceramic vases were spaced along with walls with dozens of flowers spilling over the sides filling the room with a pleasant aroma.  Down the length of the room to the main entrance was a long red rug running up the steps to the two thrones. 

“Yes?” she asked, the response curt.  Her eyes drifted towards the Queen whose face appeared strained by the lack of formalities in their presence.  The woman did not say anything to her, however, and eventually Sybil shifted her gaze back towards the King's emerald green eyes.  The malignant maintained a stoic stance and there was an awkward silence in the room until the Queen excused herself to their chambers for the evening.  Only then did Sybil let her shoulders relax.  Her voice softer than it had been once before, she asked, “What is it, Everen?”

Holding a hand out towards her, she climbed the steps to the throne and took it.  He brought it tenderly to his cheek.  “Creatures from the Hellsmouths have been sighted on the on the borders of Faestone.”  Brows furrowed, the woman frowned.  The Hellsmouths and the demons inside were concepts she had never heard before she was brought to Faestone.  King Hilden was either unaware of the real dangers of the world or ignorant as he proceeded to deem anyone other than humans the enemy when, in reality, everyone needed to band together to eliminate the true threat.

The elves had found her wandering lost in the woods not long after her visit to the gambling town.  To them, as Dalious had said, it did not matter if she was a malignant.  In fact, they admired her abilities—especially the young Everendall.  In a way, Prince Everendall reminded her a lot of the boy who saved her.  Either he wasn't afraid or he didn't show it and eventually she learned to trust him.  As the years passed and she grew older, he hardly aged at all.  Their friendship began to blur the lines into something more though they both knew it couldn't last.

The war with King Hilden ended the life of Everendall's father and the young prince, or young in the eyes of the elves, was forced to take the throne.  Eventually Everendall was persuaded by the court to marry an elven noble woman with the hopes of producing an heir to carry on the royal lineage.  Sybil was allowed to remain at the palace as a strategist, her skills in magic on par to those who had been studying the craft for many centuries.  Rumors circulated about the King and the malignant throughout the palace—rumors that on more difficult nights became the truth.  

“Would you like me to take care of it?” she asked.  All he needed was to tell her what he wanted and she would do it without a moment's hesitation.  It wouldn't be the first time she'd fought creatures from a Hellsmouth.  Sybil could remember the dead eyes staring right through her.  They cared nothing about who or what they were fighting, occasionally even turning on their own kind as they slaughtered without mercy.  Still, they weren't as terrifying as the humans and their hatred for the malignant.  Nothing would phase her after being forced to watch and listen to her mother being burned alive.  

Profusely shaking his head, he gripped her hand tighter as he stated a firm, “No.”  There would be no arguing with him once his mind was made up.  “Not after what happened last time.”  

Sybil frowned as he mentioned her failure and both of their eyes went to stare at the long, gnarly scar traveling the length of her forearm.  The woman self-consciously pulled it away and folded her arm against her chest.  “Then what do you recommend?”

“I cannot spare any Knights.  Not with Reol threatening to encroach on our lands,” he sighed, massaging his temples.  “And I could not bare to think what might happen if I let you go unattended again.”  The woman pulled her lips into a thin straight line, but said nothing.  Perhaps she had been a bit overzealous last time, but it was not a mistake she would make again.  “I've sent an invitation to a group of monster hunters.  I plan to offer them a contract.”  The expression on his face implied he was not happy with this decision, as Sybil had learned over time that he was a proud individual that would rather not ask for outside help if he could.  But he also knew he had to keep his land and the people in it safe.

Realizing that he did not want her there to give her an order, but merely for her presence and reassurance the woman smiled.  “I approve,” she told him, her soft voice calm and comforting.  The words brought a smile to his face—the first she had seen all evening.

The two of them stared at each other in silence for a long while and though he appeared to want to say something more, he did not.  The King finally stood.  “Thank you, Sybil,” he stated, his voice firm and almost cold.  With an understanding nod of her head she took a step back to put some distance between them.  “I do hope you have a good night.”  The woman refused to return his bow out of sheer stubbornness and kept her blue eyes focused on him as he walked away.  A sigh escaping her lips, the beautiful flowers decorating the main hall wilted and withered away around her before she retreated back to her quarters.