Chapter 19: Desolation and Death
Hearing that, a fresh wave of icy dread trickled down everyone’s spine. No one had a shred of defiance or courage in their faces, only shock and fear.
At this point, they all knew who this man was, and the understanding shared in the unbearable silence was telling.
Because they all also knew that they were all going to die.
"Ugh..."
The escort let out a silent groan as he struggled to his feet. In the stillness of everyone and everything, he limped forward, clutching his broken shoulder. His blood dripped in dark trails, his body was covered in scars, and molten dust still sizzled around him— weaker this time.
"Decterion," he called the name of the darkly figure with a dreaded whisper.
The man’s blue eyes moved, gazing impassively at the limping tamer. The rest of the squad slowly turned their heads to the escort’s direction as he limped past them. Soon, he was standing in front of everyone, his bludgeoned body a weak shield.
"Let me die first," he said with a cracking voice, almost like he was begging the figure. "If these young ones watch me fall, then perhaps... they’ll be prepared to face theirs."
Decterion said nothing.
Jethro and Padva caught each other’s frightened gazes, though he was certain his face was more horror-stricken than hers.
Silence reigned again. For a short time. Before Decterion gave his response.