"Mama,"
The sharp, high cry shattered the merchant's bartering. Kael had spotted the silver hair at the edge of the square. For the first time in a month, the boy's voice broke through his self-imposed silence, the word tearing out of his throat in a sob of pure, desperate recognition.
The sound warmed Alias's chest and pained him all at once.
The bandits and the merchant spun around, their hands instantly dropping to the hilts of their blades as they saw the solitary, silver-haired figure walking toward them.
"Who the hell are you?" the leader barked.
Alias didn't answer with words. He unleashed his rage for the first time since descending to the earth.
He didn't touch the innocent, suffering people of the village. His wrath was surgical. With a flick of his wrist, the air pressure in the square dropped instantly. A wave of pure, concussive force erupted from his form, slamming into the four bandits before they could even draw their swords.
