The Arrow of Stag Horn

Richard turned his head from the spoon - feeding was no use anymore for his body, which now spoke to him with the tremors, saying that it was nigh time to give up.

These powers of sorcery had proved too strong against his fevered flesh. The dark prince had stuck him with an arrow; that prick had drained his life fast from him.

Regardless of distance in exile, his brother's demon had overcast that bow. More curious still, the arrow that had wedged inside his shoulder had been crafted from carved stag horn, and not metal.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series