Shendron stood up and focused on Isurra, walking over to her with small steps at first, but, after covering the 100 steps to where she was crouching, with her back to him, he had healed completely, and he gripped her arm, to turn her around. Isurra whipped herself around and stood in front of him, but her eyes were a strange hue of blue, so Shendron stepped back, she thought he was startled by this move, but her eyes were the things which made him back away.
“Uh, it’s ok, the things dead.” He thought that there was fear in her eyes, he wanted to comfort her.
Then he asked her, "Can you stand?" She moved up with such ease, and he knew that the injuries he saw her recieve in battle were gone, but he kept his questions about injuries to himself, hoping she would ask none about his own.
“It was nothing…didn’t get through my boots!” she said laughingly.
She didn't even seem to think that he was speaking to her, she seemed dazed and in a world of her own, completely away from anything resembling reality. He looked at her, and noticed that the black blood on her skin was - in some places - gone. There was a trickle of red blood on her right shoulder, running down from a very shallow cut. He looked at her face again and looked at her shoulder. The cut was gone and the black blood surrounding it seemed to have been absorbed into the skin, almost as though the blood had healed it. Her eyes suddenly seemed to come alive, as when you realize that you know the answer to a vexing question, or when you realize that the pot you've just put your hand in is filled with boiling oil, he couldn't decide which.
“Are you ok?” Shendron was concerned.
“Ah, yes…yes, I’m fine.” She replied.
Then she seemed to jump into a puddle of blood and rooted around in it, and pulled up her tar black coat.
“What in Antaris’s name are you doing?”
She said "nothing" in an unconvincing voice and suddenly pulled her finger out of a coat pocket, and drops of her blood splashed from her finger into the Dehekon's blood. The little vial she always carried around with her had been broken and the fluid had come into contact with the black coagulated mess, turning it. First the black blood began to move again, slowly becoming liquid, then, sudenly, it was a fresh spilt blood, and then red, human red, blood from a human, just slain, blood that was still alive and seemed to still have a heart beat. Isurra seemed possessed. And Shendron backed away. no creature he knew of would react in this way to blood. None except the creatures he knew he hunted. Not human, not mortal, not docile: all the things she had pretended to be. It all seemed to make sense now; the unearthly blue eyes, the little sleep, the over-emphasised footsteps! She was trying her best to not dip her face into the ankle deep pool of red around her, and drink it in! She was...

Chanting, chanting close by.“Oh, that wizard will be the death of me!” groaned Shendron
The mercenary backed away deliberately, using the wizard's noises as an excuse to put distance between himself and this thing in the blood. He turned and dashed toward the sound, keeping his hearing fixed on the creature behind him. He was not going to confront her now. He would hold his peace, until they were not on the point of death, as this castle seemed intent on having them be at all times.

Crossing the meters between himself and the exit of the chamber, he suddenly spun around and saw Isurra was gone and as he thought, she could not resist the call of hunger. He couldn't wait now, and he ran toward the chamber the wizard was in.

Upon entering the chamber, Shendron saw that the scene was not pretty: the wizard Rowen was chanting, and he was being engulfed every second that passed, with a great ball of flaming light, an odd light that seemed to eat at the darkness around it as it grew. Acroos from him, to Shendron's left, was a small group of wizards, also chanting, and the group of four wizards' heads was surrounded by a halo of dark purple light. The magicks here, Shendron knew, were not ones which targeted the physical, in the sense that it would kill a warrior, but they were aimed at the esoteric, for they were aimed at the powers that manipulted nature itself. Shendron was not known as a friend of wizards, but he had to know all his enemies, with their strength and their weaknesses. Shendron focused on the little group of four. He saw the motion of their hands and noted the style of chant. He realized that they had cast no physical protections about themselves, not expecting an attack from anyone other than the wizard Rowen. In an instant he had his blade out, and the runes, etched into the blade, had a dark green glow about them. He ran into the first wizard and knocked him off his feet, slicing with clean precision, and lopping off the head of another. He moved in for the kill on the third and was suddenly hurled against a wall by a yellow light. He was pinned there and watched as the three remaining wizards readied petty spells to kill him. They threw pretty colours at him, and were shocked that he didn't disintegrate at their impact.
"Fools. Bloody Fools and imbeciles." He thought, "they are so pompous and over-confident!"
He hated this about wizards! They were, almost all, so vain of their abilities that they discounted any person who did not practice magick, and made them out to be less, somehow. Oh he despised them!!!
While thinking on how to loose himself and kill these three idiots, he and the three were blinded by a sudden flashing. Rowen was floating in the air, and his eyes seemed to cry blue light, which dropped to the ground and burned the stones. Whatever spell the wizard was working on, he had finished his meditations, and it was now ready to use. He pulsated with energy and he spoke in a deep rumbling voice, "Your magicks won't save you now. Release the mercenary and face your true foe, if you will."

Rowen stared at them, and was ready to begin his work...