Chapter 25
"What you wanted is irrelevant. My hatred is the only thing that's kept me going all these years, the only reason that I've suffered like a good little slave and let those scumbags look down on me like some Inverted wretch. The moment I first set foot in those mines as a slave, I vowed that I'd have my revenge on Rodei, but he had to go ahead and die before I could kill him." His gaze wandered back to Alistar, unstable eyes filled with killing intent. "Luckily, I've been given a chance at the next best thing."
"Bertrand, please...he's just a boy. He hasn't even had his first Nameday."
Bertrand took a deep, resolute breath and exhaled through his nose. "I'm sorry old friend, but it's time for your struggles to end."
"Bert—"
Alistar watched in horror as the old blade parted the skin of Raidon's throat with sickening ease. Blood shot out of the dark, fleshy gap while rivulets of ruby dribbled down his front and stained his dirtied clothing. Some of the gore sprayed onto Alistar's face.
"Ack—lss—tr," his uncle gurgled as Bertrand stepped past his whitening face, eyes wide with terror and worry.
"And now for you."
Alistar's legs were shaking. He couldn't believe what had just happened, what he was still seeing. It had to be a dream, a very real and twisted nightmare. He was going to die in the coming moments, but would wake up with a start only to be hushed back to sleep by his mother's soothing voice, his father's heavy arm wrapped around the two of them, hugging them closely.
He put up no resistance as the man stepped in front of him and readied the bloodied knife for a simple slash that would surely slit his throat.
He could have freed the deadly crystal from his pocket and hurled it at his attacker. It only needed to graze his skin, and then everything would end. However, his uncle would still be dead, and he'd still be stranded in the middle of the forest, alone for the first time in his life. But as things were, he couldn't even form a thought, let alone attempt some sort of retaliation. He was absolutely petrified.
"This is the end, little Loya—"