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Burgundy leaves moved in the wind, fluttering here and there.

In the darkened areas of the Grove, a man looked to and fro in search of someone. He could feel eyes burrowing into the back of his head and it was making him uneasy. Who in the world had that kind of power? The shadows danced and he paled. He looked that way, seeing the silhouette of a man disappear around the corner.

“Hold on!”

The man followed the silhouette as best he could. Twice had the entity alluded him, twice had he rediscovered the blackened foreshadow. He ran and he ran for what felt like hours, which in reality was several minutes. Then he crashed into the soil below as he collapsed from exhaustion. Determined to see if the shadow had already escaped, he looked up and froze at the sight that greeted him.

His blood turned to ice in his veins. T- this was the place he started in! Had the shadow planned for this from the very start of the chase? Normally, he would've resisted the thought. But the sudden feeling of terror that threatened to grip his soul told him that he shouldn't. In this dark, unlit area of the Grove, someone was going to murder him. How the man knew of this, he chose not to question. All that mattered was that he knew.

Clapping.

Pale as freshly downed snow, he strained his neck to see the origin of the sound. The sight of a Sylvari greeted him. He was in the middle of the pack in terms of height, neither tall nor short. His skin was pale green and had splotches of maroon thrown in to complement the color, matching with the burgundy leaves served as the Sylvari equivalent for Human hair. It was the eyes and the mask, however, that filled the man with untold terror.

Eyes the color of brimstone. Mask, the very likeness of a monster that mothers tried to warn their children to avoid. This creature was otherworldly. The reaper come to shackle his soul and lead him into the afterlife. And not the pleasant one, judging by the look in the Sylvari's eyes. He had to know one thing, one last thing before he met his end. “W- who are you, Sylvari?”

He watched as the humanoid laughed in earnest, heavily amused by his question.

“I've been given many titles in recent times. The Fallen Illusionist, for one. The Nightmare, for another. Personally, I think the first one fits me best. But they are titles and nothing more. My name is Auriel Liberi. I am the Darkness in the Grove that strives to purge her of all that wish her harm. And you, my friend, are the latest on my long list of sins.”

Auriel reached behind him, his voice giving away his gender, and pulled the glaive off his back. The blade glinted in the dim moonlight that managed to penetrate the treetops. It was the weapon of choice for his murderer. Ironic, the man idly noted, yet fitting. Many that followed the way of the illusions preferred some kind of pole-arm. Most took to using staves, however. Everything turned black as the blade descended, beheading him.

“Good work, Auriel,” a voice interrupted.

The Sylvari looked at the person entering the small clearing. They were short, shorter than him at least, and clothed entirely in a cloak. Their features were hidden by the shadows. But they were female, judging by the sound of their voice and the slight pronounced chest area. Auriel knew this person very well. This was his wayward teacher. The one that imparted onto him the power of illusions.

“Welcome to my area of the Grove, Akimoto Miku. I hope your journey across Tyria was pleasant.”

“Most. Now, my dear apprentice, tell me. Why are you murdering people in cold-blood, I highly doubt that was one of the lessons that I imparted before I left.”

“Pardon...? Ah, yes. Come with me to my home. I'll explain to you there. Only a matter of time before the Pale Tree learns of this man's death.”

Akimoto Miku followed her student in silence.