2It was a beautiful night in Resillia. The moon shone softly on its gravel walkways and tall, sandstone towers and buildings. Its gentle rays were reflected on the cool, lapping waters of the ocean, hence the city's name, which meant "water palace" in the old tongue.
A young girl, her silky black hair twisted into a neat braid, gazed calmly out to sea, her pale green eyes revealing none of her inner turmoil.
"Is it done?" a cold voice asked.
She forced herself not to shiver. He hated displays of weakness, of uncertainty and fear.
Then, she remembered those disbelieving, anguished eyes of the one she had destroyed, for destroy him she had.
"I trusted you."
When she responded, her voice was colder than ice, her tone flat and unfeeling.
"It is done."