"Roderic..." Kaiden forced out.
The name scraped through the street and found Neo before he could prepare for it.
Roderic Duplain.
The old man's tavern returned with the smell of blood and cheap wood. A dagger held loosely in one hand. Gray hair slicked back. A calm face standing over a dying man as if the world had already signed permission for it. Neo's fingers compressed around the twin swords, but he did not move. Moving now would only ruin what little Kaiden still had left to say.
Richards' bow remained raised, blue Essence trembling over the arrowhead while Kaiden fought against whatever had been planted inside his soul. The black threads under his throat tightened and slackened in uneven pulses, as if the name itself had hooked into the corruption and pulled.
"Keep breathing," Richards said. "Slowly. The way you did in the pit."
Kaiden tried.
