[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Rysha cowered as Gorthroth swooped down on Cersed. She had known the ferocity of the wights in battle was terrible, but this was the first time she'd ever seen it. How foolish she'd been to think that she could ever supplant Gorthroth as the ruler of these caves. How foolish. Her fingers trembling she dropped her sword, the sound was muffled in the folds of her dark cape, and Rysha was grateful. She wanted no attention drawn to herself, she wanted the wights to have no reason to replenish themselves with her strength.

Though she was terrified, Rysha's eyes never left the figures of the battling wights, and as Gorthroth reached into Cersed, finally and forever destroying his foe, the woman drew a quick breath. The snarling wight retreated to his throne, weak and shuddering. Rysha, the fascination lifting, reclaimed her sword and hurried down the dark passageways away from the wight.

The fleeing woman didn't stop to see Gorthroth evaporate, or his dark throne stand empty. She walked briskly, kicking the body of Kurzag out of her way as she went, hurrying past Erchas' cavern. The door was just ahead, the door-- the way out. She slipped through it, pulling the hood of her cloak over her face to sheild her eyes from the stinging light of day.

Breathing deeply, Rysha looked around her. One life was over. She had the chance to continue somewhere else. Turning to spit on the ground in front of the doorway, Rysha looked again at the caverns that had been her home. She flicked her whip with irritation, cursed dwarves, and started down the path toward Edoras.