Exton

The blood-matted scarecrow that staggers toward me is barely recognizable as Morgan Bloodmane, my living nightmare. I almost feel pity for her… almost, but Conal's face rises up before my eyes, demanding justice. My blade flickers out, just once… one quick slice across the throat, and Morgan falls, to rise nevermore.

"Let her lie where she fell," comes the Huntsman's voice. "Let the scavengers remove all trace of her wickedness from this world, that it may be seen no more. You have done well this day, avengers and justiciars in one. Let no lingering doubt taint your triumph; you have merely cut out a cancer, so that it spread no farther. I say you have done well; are there any who would dispute with me?"

He stands tall, holding his great spear, one hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword; and when there is no response, he begins to fade, until at last it is as though he was never there at all.