“Is that so?” His laugh is hollow and metallic. “Fine. then you do this.” The death knight hands the mage a blade carved with skulls and runes that glow a fierce blue, it was obvious it was given to him long before Light’s Hope.

The weapon, small compared to the sword on Tevurden’s back, manages to look massive in the mage’s hands. “I take it you know where to strike, to kill them cleanly? Or perhaps you do not want a clean kill— you are not scared after all.”