They were there, at the center of the carnage, covered in blood, saturated with that substance too heavy to be ignored, too red to be forgotten. Him and Lysara. Red from head to toe. Red like extinguished flames. Red like the truth one refuses to see, like what one senses at the bottom of a nightmare but refuses to name. The blood drowned them, bound them, disfigured them. There was no more nobility, no armor, no hierarchy. There was only this: two bodies covered by a dead world.
And he… he slowly turned his head.
