Varsol slithered slyly through the old castle. Up the steps to the first floor, then second. Sneaking, not letting his footsteps be heard, not letting his breath pierce the stillness of the night.
Last one on the right, if I remember correct, he thought.
He reached the door and the end, hardly glancing at the familiar tapestries hanging throughout the dimly lit hall. His fist clenched around the copper door nob, twisting it ever so slowly to the left. A small squeak resonated from the door nob, but no cry or alarm rang within the room. He breathed out a sigh of relief, pushing the door gently. It creaked slightly in resistance, then opened completely.
Within the rounded room wasn't much of anything. The only noticeable object was a crib sitting in the middle of the room. He approached the crib, fumbling in his robe for a dagger. He removed it, the gem embedded hilt gleaming in the candle light. He licked his lips, sweat pouring from his rather pointed nose. His hand fumbled, grasping the blanket that lied within the wooden crib. He jerked it upwards, not looking before striking downward with the blade. He felt it meet something soft, the sliced through to stick in the frame of the crib.
A high pitched squeal resonated from his throat, his anger clear on his pale, flushed face. Lying in the crib was nothing more than a blanket, pillow, and a small piece of parchment. He peaked at the parchment, six words inscribed on them.
you will never get her back
Varsol screamed in rage. He kicked the crib, and it shattered against the chiseled wall. He stormed out of the room, no longer caring if he was seen, if he was caught, or if he woke anyone. For if he didn't find the babe, and destroy her, before she turns the age of fifteen, then all of Avanie would be doomed to Hell.