Yrmelian

In half an instant, its shroud was swept away, revealing a long arm that reached out for something Ishgar could not see. In a blur of motion, it raised another arm upward. Metal briefly shone against the starlight. Then there was a sharp twang, a swift hiss, and Ishgar’s head jerked back. The black arrow had pierced right into his throat and through his neck. He stumbled back, tried to scream out in anguish and pain, but could only let out a low, gargled grunt. Through his strained and bloodshot eyes, he could see the stars twinkling erratically above him. And as his body slumped to the ground, his last thought drifted away, not to Barcadéna or to his home back in Joddaï, but to the realm of ancient tales, where justice and death rode together to avenge the innocent and punish the wicked.