The field was silent, not a single word being spoken. There was a dense air of fear there, the candidates for the enclave sitting and soaking in their apprehension. It felt like their worst nightmare had just manifested right in front of them, and they could do nothing as they watched a man whom they had had so much respect for just moments ago die like a dog on the side of the road.
Sir Ejold's corpse was still there, still oozing puddles of red that the dust of the field didn't seem porous enough to absorb completely.
The scent of death hung in the air, and yet Priya, who was the closest to it, couldn't seem to find it within her to pay much attention to it.
She kept staring at the path Zarek had escaped from, her mind blank, her heart empty. She wanted to rage, but what good would that do?
She wasn't as strong as Zarek.
Sometimes she wished that she could just give her Talents to him. Just how much better would he be? Would they even struggle if she weren't such a mess-up?
