Whispers (pt.2)

Petir stood at the edge of the bustling marketplace where he had been since early that morning waiting and watching the target go about his day. He had tracked down one of Garcius’s “subjects” to the Republic of Satrea in the city of Qahira, and now waited for Adren to show himself. He knew that it wouldn’t be long before the time came but still, as he stood there listening to the buzzling crowd, he felt anxious. Petir had not seen him since the day they fought together almost a decade ago, and he had heard of all the things he had done since then. Adren had killed and destroyed with no remorse for years and Petir had done nothing about it. He felt the shame and anger surface as he thought back on his own inaction. He was here now and it’s time to put an end to this he thought as his gaze swept over the crowd once more. 

His heart pounded a steady rhythm in his chest, a silent metronome ticking down the minutes. And then, amidst the vibrant chaos of the marketplace he saw him. Adren’s eyes met his after a brief moment and his breath hitched. For a moment he felt relief that was swiftly overtaken by a surge of adrenaline. As he looked across the square towards Adren he felt a weird sense of familiarity and in the corner of his eyes he saw a spectral form walking among the crowd. Petirs eyes darted towards the ghost and he saw the back of a man wearing golden armor and long bronze colored hair. The figure passed behind a market stall, drifting out of Petir’s vision. He quickly shook himself out of the stunned surprise and realizing he lost focus, looked back to where Adren was mere moments ago. The spot was empty.

Petir clenched his fist annoyed at his own incompetence and turned around to find another vantage point. Turning the corner of the alleyway he took a singular step and then stopped in his tracks.

Facing him was Adren, his face a mask showing no emotion, his eyes unable to meet his own. The crowd and the noise of the marketplace faded into the background as deafening silence sunk down like a blanket between the two of them.

Their eyes locked, Petir watched the muscles in Adren’s jaw move as if he was grinding his teeth together. He relaxed his clenched fist. He wasn’t here to hurt him.

A conversation passed, unsaid words filled with years of memories, shared battles and a friendship that had been torn apart by circumstances beyond their control. Petir felt a shared connection, and then concern overwhelmed him at the state that he saw his former companion, his friend in. 

The robes he wore were torn at the edges, sooth and burn marks covered most of the visible skin of his arms. Petir had to hold himself back from reaching out when he realized that some of the burns were fresh and healing. Adren’s eyes were sunken in, dark shadows had settled underneath and Petir missed the shine of curiosity in them that he knew from before. A curiosity he would often credit to Adren’s naive view of the world and that had caused him to worry often. 

Adren was the first to break the silence. “Petir,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. It was a greeting, a question, an accusation, all wrapped in a single word. Petir felt a lump form in his throat as he struggled to find the right words. The man standing before him was not the same one he had fought alongside all those years ago. This was a man hardened by war and loss, his soul marked by the countless lives he had taken.

As they stood there, facing each other he felt a wave of emotions stir. Anger, sadness, regret and sorrow flashed through his mind but as he looked at the cold emotionless eyes staring back at him they were the eyes of a stranger. They were eyes that had seen too much death, dealt too much pain, and lost too much of their humanity.

“Adren,” Petir said, with a sense of determination. The name felt foreign on his tongue, like speaking the name of someone long dead. “This has to end.” 

Adren looked away. A rueful smile pulled at his lips as he said “And you are the one to end it?”. 

Petir bit the inside of his cheek, unable to say the words. Adren looked at him with pity as he continued. “Just say it, you know there is no going back”. 

Petir knew he had to reason with Adren before this turned into something that couldn’t be taken back. “By continuing on this path you are still letting Garcius control you, don’t you see?” Petir exclaimed, his voice rising.

Adren looked down towards his arms and said with a detached voice “I was nothing but a tool to begin with, but ending it is my choice.”  

“Wait you-” Petir started to say before Adren turned around.

“You should have stayed away, Petir. ” he said with a finality before the crowd swallowed him. The sounds of the market echoed through the alleyway. Petir now stood alone, his mind wandering. Was there anything else he could have said or done to stop him? 

Even now when they talked he felt hesitation choke his words and he knew if it came down to it, hesitation could mean a death sentence. Adren clearly wouldn’t listen to what he had to say nor his reasonings like he had hoped. Petir looked down at his hands as he felt the cold touch of his two metallic fingers. He murmured to himself, “And people call me stubborn…”

Petir sat on a rooftop overlooking the plaza near the residence of the target, his fingers tapping a restless pattern against the clay of the tiles. He was waiting for any sign of distress or potential trouble, patrolling the area with only his eyes. 

As he sat there, the night sky filled with stars above him, he hoped that Adren took the few words they exchanged to heart, but inside he knew that it was hoping against hope. He had seen the look on Adren’s face before. Sometimes even now, when he took a look in the mirror. 

All of a sudden an alarm disrupted the silence of the night. The few guards that Petir had followed with his gaze rushed towards the other side of the plaza, the only way to get inside of the mansion quickly. 

Petir grabbed a hold of his blades as he jumped off of the roof and sprinted across the cobblestone. A fiery explosion shattered the roof of the estate, sending rubble dozens of meters up into the sky before raining down towards him.

Petir reached for three vials inside his pack, downed them in one go and tossed them onto the paved path leading up to the front entrance of the building. 

Two of the guards stood there, covering their heads as they looked for shelter against the falling roof. They saw him approach and barely had the sense to lower their halberds towards him. 

Petir didn’t stop and, as he was only inches away from the cold steel, jumped. The poison within the vials ran through his veins, strengthening his muscles and enhancing the unmatched skills of a trained bloodhunter. He stabbed his sharpened blades into the wall and started climbing as another explosion went off. The wall shuddered beneath him and as it collapsed he was propelled forwards into the building.

On the other end of the main hall, Adren stood holding a charred corpse by their neck. He dropped the lifeless body to join the several more he was standing on. A door opened and a man, his target, attempted to flee the scene. Adren started to walk after him when three heavily armored knights stepped into his way. The first swung his greatsword, the movement graceful and precise, only for Adren to place a burning hand on his face and incinerate the man. The second used the opening to swing his golden axe at Adren’s exposed flank. Adren ducked underneath with blinding speed and swept the legs out from under the knight with a forceful kick. As the knight fell, his heavy armor no match for the loss of balance Adren slammed his knee into the face of the man. The cracking of bones reverberated throughout the entire hall. Finally the last knight dropped his weapon, terrified at seeing his two comrades die and turned to run when a gout of flame hit him in the back. Within moments his screams were silenced and his charred body fell to the floor. 

The only exit collapsed underneath the rubble of the shattered wall, trapping the fleeing man within, who fell to his knees and started to claw at the stone. Tears were streaming over his face as he wailed in his panic. Adren walked towards the man, a calm within his steps that seemed cold, calculated. He watched for a moment with empty eyes, then raised his hand as flames started to gather and extend into a scorching blade. 

Petir watched from where he had landed on the second floor as Adren put a knee into the back of the man, grabbed his hair and pulled. He could almost hear the bones grind underneath the screams of the man as his back arched and exposed his chest. 

Petir launched himself down and sent a kick into Adren’s side, causing him to fly back several meters and stumble into a pile of rubble. Hoping Adren would stay down, Petir stood over the man on the floor, intently listening to every rattling breath he was pulling into his lungs. The man would survive. For now. 

Dust settled, clearing his vision from where Adren was laying. Petir watched with dismay as his hands started glowing and flames licked around the cement of the rubble he was leaning against. The immense heat softened the rock and as Adren pushed himself up, he left a dent in the shape of his hand on it. The pungent smell of burning clay filled the hall.

Adren stood again, opposite of Petir. Their eyes met.

Adren unleashed a continual gout of flame towards Petir and he only barely got his blades up in time to absorb most of the blow. He tried to look for Adren but the flames still roared in front of him. He struggled to keep his eyes open against the heat.

Petir felt one of his feet sink into the ground, making him stumble and the flames around him intensified. He knew that Adren was going for the target.

Sharpening his other senses, he heard Adren’s rapid footsteps approach the man and instinctively slashed his weapons against the fire. The momentum of the swing carried him forward into a roll. As he cleared the flames he saw Adren right in front of him and jumped into a tackle. 

They fell to the ground, impacting hard. Petir held on with all his strength but his grip weakened for just a second and a kick against his chest rushed all remaining air from his lungs, stunning him. He felt Adren quickly slip out of his grip and back onto his feet to continue his run towards the target, grabbed his weapons and threw them. The chain connecting the blades wrapped around Adren’s ankles and had him fall again. 

Petir’s throat felt dry from the heat he had endured before. He pushed himself to his feet, swallowing hard to try and get air back into his chest and charged the prone Adren. Petir heard a curse leave Adren’s mouth as he ripped the chains off of his leg and rolled backwards to stand. Frustration pulled his face into a grimace and Petir felt the thrill of the fight intoxicate him. This is the first time he found himself fighting Adren earnestly, and even through the seriousness of their encounter he felt a twinge of sour achievement. 

He passed where Adren had fallen and reached down to grab his weapons. The leather of the handles felt warm in his hands. Adren faced him, his stance seemingly open and unengaged. Petir threw his blades in a feint and went for a punch with his left hand. He knew to be ready, he knew to expect Adren to react fast, and deadly. Adren moved in a flash, kicked the knee of Petir’s leg. His punch went past Adren’s head and he felt an elbow crash against his nose before he could see the attack. Blood rushed into his mouth and he felt it dripping from his broken nose but it didn’t matter. 

Petir grabbed Adren by the arm and threw him against a pillar. The stone cracked with the impact. Their eyes met again as Adren got to one knee and braced himself for another attack. His eyebrows were pulled down into a deep frown, like he was contemplating something.  

For just a second, Petir thought he might have been able to throw Adren off of his goal and he opened his mouth to say something but was cut off. Adren’s hand started to glow, the air around him shimmering with the heat he gave off. Petir lunged, grabbing Adren’s wrist and all he could feel after was searing hot pain. 

A resounding explosion rocked the entire building and Petir flew through the marble walls of the mansion and out onto the cobbled streets of the plaza. He stabbed his blade into the ground to stop his tumble and looked up. Adren, having been dragged with him, lay only a few meters away. 

The skin on his arms looked red and tender, Petir felt the sting of open flesh at his back but he couldn’t give himself a moment to check himself over. Adren pushed himself onto his arms, his hair in a disarray covering most of Petir’s view of his face and blood dripping from a cut in his lower lip, clearly just as injured from the fall. 

Using his weapons as support, Petir forced himself to stand and felt as the potion he had drunk earlier re-set one of his broken fingers. 

His body felt sluggish, his sweat stung in the open scrapes and cuts but the fight was far from over. Before Adren had even fully found his balance again, he slammed his hands forward and the entire plaza blew up with fire. 

Petir jumped into the central fountain to avoid the deadly flames but still felt the water around him start to boil with the intensity of the heat above him. As he surfaced he gasped for air and froze.

The buildings around the plaza were set ablaze, screams of the civilians rang through the streets and Petir felt the ground tremble with the collapse of the first buildings. Disbelief and grief stunned him, so he couldn’t react in time when Adren, not allowing him a moment to take the scene in, closed the distance and started to unleash his attacks. 

He slammed Petir away from the fountain and lunged right after, punches connecting with Petir’s stomach and upper chest. 

Literally thrown out of his state of shock, Petir took another jump backwards and away from Adren as soon as his feet found solid ground again. There’s blood in his mouth and hot steam rose from his skin where the fountain water evaporated from the heat surrounding him. He stopped to catch his breath and coughed harshly to free his throat from the blood and ash. His hands were dripping red water.

His back hurt, his wounds stung and there’s blood everywhere. Still, he forced himself to stand upright amidst the chaos. The once vibrant well crafted buildings around him were reduced to a fiery ruin but all he could do was watch. 

The blades in his hands felt heavy, the metal reflecting the lethal flames and their dancing light. His grip around them tightened. Petir set his gaze on his opponent. 

Adren was watching him, only a distance away. Despite his injuries his presence was menacing with the crackling flames around him throwing deep shadows over his face. He was a lethal shadow among them. 

The time for words was over, Petir felt his heart become heavy, and his muscles tensed as he readied himself to attack. He aimed the first strike at Adren’s side, felt the blade cut skin but not fully land as Adren retaliated with a blistering punch. Petir dropped to dodge, the smell of burning hair filled his nostrils and he heard the singe of leather. 

Seizing the opportunity, Petir landed a kick on Adren’s side and pushed him back. Something was different. Adren’s defense was lacking and Petir realized that he was being baited. Adren unleashed a burst of fire that hit Petir straight in the chest. His skin blistered, the pain was searing, but Petir couldn’t allow any kind of hesitation. He closed the gap between them once more, his blades twirling through the air and launched attack after attack against Adren, growing in speed and in force. Adren dodged most, parried some but then, finally one found its mark.

Petir’s blade cut through the skin of Adren’s arms, sliced down and hit bone. Adren grunted in pain before turning fully and slamming his leg into Petir’s side. The metal chain connecting his blades rang sharply. Adren clawed at the air with his working arm and the heat grew scorching as he summoned a massive gust that took hold of Petir and threw him across the square through the massive wooden doors of the cathedral.

---

The fire raged through the city, consuming everything in its way. Buildings crumbled and black clouds of smoke covered the view of the stars above. 

Adren took a few heavy steps forward, his body felt slow to react to his commands and he looked down at the cut Petir had wounded him with. The blood flow was steady but weaker than what one would expect from a deep gash like that. His skin was ruined from his own fire to begin with, the nerves already numb from the extensive heat he would abuse in his attacks. He tried to pull his hand into a fist but his muscles didn‘t react. 

Petir hit hard, and cut deeper. Adren felt a small frown pull at his forehead as he reminded himself once more that there is no holding back in this fight. Not if he needed the man in the mansion dead by dawn. 

As Adren walked closer to the cathedral, he downed two Healing Potions, the vials melting immediately in his hands. He felt his skin stitch itself back together, the bruises from the fall faded away and his steps became lighter again. 

He balled his hand into a fist, this time his muscles obeying him, and snapped his arm out into a punch as he stepped through the shattered main door to the cathedral. 

The roaring of the flames outside hadn‘t reached the inner hall yet. Dust was falling slowly after the rubble had settled from when Petir was thrown through the door, though its light made the colors of the tinted windows dance across every surface. 

Petir was still on the ground, propped up against a bigger piece of rubble but not moving. Adren kept his attention on those golden eyes following his every move as he approached. He tried not to feel the sting in his chest when he recognized the judgment and anger in them. 

When he was within reach, Petir‘s hand twitched around his weapon and Adren planted his foot on his wrist, putting enough pressure on it to make the threat come across. Then he leant down, closer to where he would have a better look into Petir‘s eyes. 

„Back then you were the first one to give up on hope.“ Adren said with one hand starting to glow again and dangerously close to Petir‘s neck, „So this shouldn‘t be hard.“ 

There‘s a flash of hurt in his face. Adren straightened.

„Stay down. Give up and this will end.“ 

A moment of silence solidified into numbing static around them. Petir’s hand relaxed his grip around his weapon but his eyes still bore into Adren’s. Even when he turned his back on Petir, Adren could still feel them. He walked, his steps echoing in the halls of the cathedral, his focus shifting back to the name on the list in his pocket when he heard a soft rustle of clothes.  

„I was wrong.“ he heard Petir say, before a kick impacted on Adren’s side. 

His body was flung through a pillar, his back slamming into the wall behind and cracks spread like veins through the cement. Adren barely had the reflex to put an arm between Petir’s leg and his ribcage and he still felt one or two bones crack with the force of it. The heat intensified. The smell of burning skin pierced his nose.

Adren cursed loudly, grabbed a handful of softened cement to throw at Petir then pushed himself away from the wall. The flames around his fists were burning bright with his frustration. He closed the distance with another jump but before his punches could connect, he saw a blade flash to his right. 

Petir grabbed the sharp end of one blade to swing the other at Adren. A move he had seen before, but the brutal speed of it was new. Adren let himself fall to the ground, hearing the swoosh of the sharp blade above him cut through cloth and hair. Red blood splattered from Petir’s cut palms as he danced backward, keeping the distance between him and Adren. 

For every punch that Adren threw his way, Petir found a counter to lessen its impact or redirect it into the ground, sacrificing strength for his offense to keep his defense solid against him. Most of the punches landed on walls, breaking tiles and crushing through pillars as more bright red joined the blood around them. 

It felt like a conversation; things that they have said before, during the time they traveled together, like time hadn’t changed who they were yet. Back then they never had learnt to communicate without their conversation ending in blows. Adren remembered the many times he made another misstep or uttered another word not thought through and Petir had reacted with a slap on his wrist or a punch to his face. Even back in the alleyway, it had been what Adren expected from his old friend. They didn’t talk. That’s not who they were, they should have sent someone else. Why didn’t they send someone else?

Petir took another heavy kick to his chest. He staggered from his sudden empty lungs and Adren saw his opportunity to get close again. In that split second he forgot to avoid the blood splatters on the ground. Adren froze when he saw the smirk appear on Petir’s face. He looked down. Bloody tendrils had wrapped around his ankles, pierced through leather and connected with Adren’s skin. He felt the blood curse run through his veins like lightning as his system was shocked and his muscles screamed in agony. 

Adren couldn’t move. Petir struck. 

Cut after cut slashed through Adren’s skin. He heard his blood bubble and hiss with the heat of his own flames. They weren’t as deep as before and Adren recognized the hesitation that still ran through Petir as he swung. Anger built up once more. Adren saw Petir wind up for one last slash with electricity jumping from his own blood on Petir’s blades.

He pushed his body to respond and compressed the air between his hands into a tight ball of heat. Just as Petir was about to hit, he released the air into an explosion. 

A hot barrier pushed everything away from its center, slammed into broken walls and shattered the windows of tinted glass. Shards of every color fell, reflecting the few stars still visible between the columns of smoke outside. Some of them melted with the extensive heat that had built up around Adren, turning into small meteors raining down onto the scene.

Petir had crossed his blades in front of him to take most of the impact. Adren knew to not give him another moment to catch his breath and jumped. Gritting his teeth, he tasted blood on his tongue as he threw punch after punch at his former friend. 

Their previous dance was disrupted, the rhythm they had found broke under the ruthless onslaught of attacks between them. Adren abandoned every defence while Petir tried to keep up with him.  

“You could have just walked away.” Adren hissed through bloody teeth. He slammed his knuckles against one of Petir’s blade, felt the metal cut right down to his bones as he pushed it out of his way, before slamming his forehead against Petir’s nose. There’s a grunt of pain from him and Adren just felt his anger grow at it. “You could have just fucking walked, Petir!” 

Rage burst within him. Adren dropped his hand to the ground, letting the second blade land right above his collarbone. Their eyes met. 

“That’s all you ever did anyway.” said Adren, before slamming a pillar of magma into Petir’s chest. The walls of the cathedral shattered. Petir crashed through the streets of the city, now nothing but a ruin on fire. Where the cathedral stood before was now only a pile of rubble with Adren standing in the middle of it. He heard the terrified screams of the people in this city and it left him cold. They were burning but Adren knew that there were fates way worse that awaited them if he didn’t destroy every little trace that Garcius’ legacy had left behind. This was the only way. 

Adren dragged the melting red rock with him, spreading his arms out and keeping careful watch of where Petir had landed in the rubble of another building. He couldn’t see him clearly with the ash and smoke covering his view, but he had to be ready. 

The next second the curtain of smoke broke and Petir rushed at him. Adren felt the bones in his shoulders ache under the tension of his muscles as he pulled at the magic keeping him connected to the magma below him. Three pillars erupted from the ground. 

The first tore through the floor of the plaza surrounding the cathedral and cut off Petir’s dash. He barely dodged the second one as it pushed him down from another roof, the building being torn apart right through the middle. Adren saw terror appear on Petir’s face as screams for help echoed from underneath the destruction around them. A distraction he shouldn’t have allowed himself. The third pillar slammed into him, hurling his body up into the sky. Petir spit blood and his body went limp as he fell. Adren raised his hand. Red veins spread over his arm, searing and blistering his skin as he summoned another storm of fire. 

The black clouds and the flames completely covered the view of the night sky above now. Adren watched as Petir’s body was swallowed by his fire as his vision became blurry. He felt another swell of blood in his mouth, felt the heat and the quakes trembling through the ground, making him unsteady on his feet as another building collapsed and the fire storm consumed everything. 

His instincts screamed at him. This wasn’t over yet. Adren looked up. The wall of fire above split apart and revealed Petir. He had used the last pillar as a foothold leading him straight through the firestorm and to where Adren was standing. His skin was blistering, the firestorm clearly did its damage but Petir’s eyes were filled with determination. 

Adren swung at him with gritted teeth, but Petir was quicker. He followed Adren’s momentum and got close enough to spit blood into his eyes. Adren knew this curse. He braced himself for the cuts but instead he felt the metal chain wrap around his throat. Instinctively Adren put his own hand between his skin and the chain of Petir’s weapon and tried to pull out of the chokehold, but Petir had the upper hand when it came to brutal strength. 

He felt the chains cut into his skin as Petir pulled with full force. “You are killing them, Adren!” he heard Petir scream. There’s pain in his voice. “You can’t do this. Enough!” 

Enough, he said. As if Adren wasn’t pleading for an end to all of this for years now. With every name on the list crossed out, every life taken and erased, Adren thought he would come closer to ‘enough’. Then another name, another fate that Garcius had changed forever appeared and his hunt started all over again. This was the price to pay. He was the collector, the reaper.

Adren roared and grabbed the chain around his throat, feeling the melting metal searing into his skin. Petir staggered as he lost his leverage. The chain broke and Adren slammed the hot metal into Petir’s face. It ripped at his skin as he tumbled to the ground. Adren stumbled a few steps backwards, his knees gave out underneath him and his lungs were fighting for air.  

The fight took its toll on both of them as almost every inch of their body was bruised or bloodied. Petir struggled back onto his knees, one hand pressed against the left side of his face where the chain had left a deep gash on his cheek. Blood was dripping from another cut on his forehead. His blades were stuck in the dirt where they had landed after the chain tore. 

All around them rubble shifted and groaned. The fire drowned everything in red light and black shadows. Adren watched as Petir looked around, his eyes filling with shock then with grief and as they landed back on Adren, with condemnation.  

Adren met his eyes, spit blood onto the ground and took a deep breath as he rose to his feet. 

“You always thought yourself to be good, justified, rightful.” Adren spat at him. “Did you ever really question who is to blame for everything?”

He raised his arms, pointing at the burning city around them, pointing at the people buried within. 

“Look around you and tell me; why did you have all of these people sacrifice everything so that you could keep your sense of justice?” 

Adren couldn’t say what Petir was thinking. His gaze seemed to drift away and suddenly his face softened. Maybe it was something like pity he found in his eyes.

“I wanted to save you.” he heard him mutter above the roaring of the fire. It sounded like a prayer. 

It came too late. 

“There are no heroes here, Petir. We witnessed the last ones become liars.” 

Adren summoned his firespirit, letting its warmth run through his body and soothe his pain as it manifested at his back. Red fiery veins tightened like a net around Adren’s arms once more and he felt the crawl of burning skin up to his shoulders. 

Petir’s body was weak. Adren could clearly see the tremble in his legs as he pushed himself to stand again. In that moment Adren suddenly sensed a bittersweet victory that the younger him would have relished in. Finally he was strong enough to defeat the one man he had always thought to be so far ahead of him. Only that now, nine years later, that victory meant so very little. Petir would survive. He would be no further hindrance to Adren tonight. 

With that, Adren dropped his stance, set himself up for the final leap and pulled his fists up to attack. He ran towards Petir, the arrows of flame at his side unleashing their inferno and cutting off every possible escape, when behind Petir rubble shifted and a person emerged from underneath the ruins.

A child stood there on shaky legs. Her knees were bloodied and her hair matted with sooth. Petir moved. Adren’s punch landed into the ground, crumbling the floor and sending a shockwave through the plaza as the last arrows found their target.

Then everything stood still. Ash started to fall from the sky like snow as more dust and smoke rose from the streets and silence descended over the plaza of the ruined cathedral. 

Between the pillars of smoke, Petir lay covered by rubble with his eyes closed and unconscious. His arms were tightly wrapped around the child, bearing the impact of the earthquake for her. He protected her. 

Adren stepped around them, his eyes were empty, his heart cold. He watched as the child slowly came back to consciousness, before turning his back on them fully. There’s still a name on his list that needed erasing.

The streets were on fire, the flames would continue to burn through the whole night, while the black smoke would keep the sky covered for at least a few more. 

Petir regained consciousness shortly after. With his potions running out, his body was numb and useless. The child had stayed with him, steadying him where they sat against a wall and waited for help. Wails of sorrow echoed through the streets, as the survivors stumbled around, looking for someone to help them. A few prayers were uttered to the gods for salvation. None were answered as nothing but ruin remained of their homes. 

From between the flames, a silhouetted figure stepped out. His face framed by long black hair and his eyes stared right through them as he continued walking down the street. 

The child recognised the figure and jumped in front of Petir to spread her arms protectively. The figure walked past and the child squeezed her eyes shut in fear when she saw what the man was holding in his hand; the mayor’s head, his last expression one of terror, dripped red blood behind them. 

Adren continued walking. Petir followed with his eyes and saw him mutter a few words, before he disappeared into a burning tree without another look back at him. Words that would hunt him for a very long time.

“This is on you, Petir the Banished.”