Liandra stumbled wearily through the cave, intent on finding her precious hammer, Storm-Weaver. Determination fueled her every step as she made her way towards her destination. Determination that she would never let go of Storm-Weaver again, and if anyone wanted it they would have to pry it from her cold, dead fingers.
She laughed wryly at that. Yea, like that was going to happen. The cave was pitch dark, she couldn’t see even her hand in front of her face, but she didn’t need to.
She knew this cave like she knew herself. Thousands of times over the last 139 years had she relived the journey to and from this cave. It was a pivotal point in her life, the one time in her long years that she had felt true loss.
She could feel Storm-Weaver calling to her and it was a siren song to her hear
