Chapter Text
Ninety seconds.
That was how much time remained until its end. They say that before their own death, many people cling to life to the last, offering prayers to Kelemvor, Jergal, Myrkul and other well-known gods.
She stopped believing in the mercy of the almighty a long time ago.
There was a clink of empty glasses from behind. An uninvited night visitor accidentally touched a table with wine.
— You know that my death will lead to you sooner or later. —The woman gathered all her remaining willpower so that her heart would stop beating in agony, clinging to those grains of vitality that were rapidly flowing through her fingers. Despite her hoarseness, her voice sounded loud, with steel and authority. That's exactly how she was when she assumed the position of Duchess of the Gate.
And that's how she'll leave. Unbroken. Defiant.
Her interlocutor exhaled raggedly, apparently not expecting such fortitude from a fragile, almost insane woman. The sword trembled in his palm.
— I have to do it, — he croaked softly. — It requires. It's calling.
The last thing the Duchess saw was a tall figure striding towards her from the dark end of her bedroom.