The cold winds bit at the ankles of his robe as he waited on the hill. The last light of the day was draining from the sky. Nothing stirred beyond the broken door. Not tonight at least.

A figure approached, he was expected.

“You have come to return what is mine I trust?”

The figure noded and removed a small iron knife from his belt. It glimmered oddly in the dying light. He held out his hand to accept the blade. The figure seemed to hessitate only a moment before laying the knife in his hand.

“I assume that she was sucessful then?”

The figure nodded again

“I can’t say I’m happy about that. But at least the Guide I knew is finally at peace.”

The figure gestured to himself empthatically.

“Yes, yes. Debts to the dying. Not that I have much need of a treacherous changeling in my service. Mikael of Cinnea I release you of your oath to me and cast you from the ranks of the Forgotten,” he hesitated and winced before adding “with no ill will borne against you”

The figure made a gesture that he interperated as thank you.

“Don’t”

He returned his gaze to the door.

“You understand, don’t you? That *thing* in there is no longer Assassin”

The figure nodded.

He looked down at knife. “We should have killed her then but Guide was loyal and useful to me. You see, this prison was my only option then. There is no such burden now.” The traces of essence still on the blade began to glow softly “Sometimes we must do terrible things for the right reasons”

He turned on his heel and walked into the darkness of the mountain pass. Disappearing with the last of the light.

“Tell her that if she crosses my path again, I will kill her myself”

“No” the figure said softly.