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A scream pierced the silence as Levra heard what was to be the last uttered breath from his love. It only registered faintly in the recesses of his mind, being stored for later sweat covered nights that would would wake him with a fright. This had been the last in a chain of events caused by a fluke. He hadn't ever intended on selling the artifact much less to a bawdy museum curator in the west bank for mere pennies on the dollar, but after all that had happened already he was ready to be rid of the infernal device. Laced with gold trim that flowed around a solid silver molded statuette of what could only be described as a mottling of faces and appendages that were held together with a webbing of shimmering copper weave that shone as if it were recently smelted and buffed.
After holding the pice for historical review he had began to research it's origin and found that for each previous owner there had been a drawing or photograph of the item that showed exquisite detail of the forms on the surface. What held people in a fascinated uproar about this piece was that, even though it was an authentic piece molded by the great Slovin MalVince himself during the worst throws of the dark ages and was verifiably a genuine by each successive owner, the appearance of the misshapen faces and distrorted reflections on the surface changed over the years to include more images.
Not knowing of it's root origin, nor it's purpose Levra had ventured to the depths of forbidden territory and retrieved the artifact for further study. Since that fateful day where he lost his entire expedionary team, he has been running in constant fear of the power of the signet. And now as he cluched it in his hand while resting a moment in the darkness, he caught a glimer of light and saw yet another imposed image that seemed to call to him. There on the center of the emblem was a bust of it's newest victim. Eyes glaring in fear at nothing, and a muted scream frozen forever, he saw his love's face, clear as ever.
His mind split in agony and madness took him over, he began to run in the forsaken dusk that lie ahead... Blood and Death were waiting like a raven in the sky! He heard a whooshing of wind from above, and felt a slight twinge of pain pirce him between his shoulderblades, and then all was black... ... ...
Silvertiger
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