Damain walked into the room with an unconscious Loth in his arms. Her head rested softly against his chest, her breathing slow and even after she had spent the entire night beside him, refusing to leave despite the horror unfolding within the garrison. She had watched until the last of the fifty thousand soldiers had died, and somewhere along the way exhaustion had finally overwhelmed her.
Rin followed quietly behind him with the sword clenched between his teeth, while Abel remained wrapped around Damain's neck in the form of a black scarf. The guards stationed along the corridor tried their best to keep their expressions straight as he passed, but none of them could completely hide the fear in their eyes.
The stench of blood, smoke and death still clung to Damain's robes, and after everything that had happened that day, nobody dared to make him uncomfortable in any way.
Bam!
