The wind howled across the blackened battlefield, carrying with it the scent of ash and war. Kairav stood still, his white cloak fluttering behind him like a ghost refusing to fade. Vyuk stood beside him, shoulders tense, eyes distant.
Kairav gently placed his hand on Vyuk's shoulder.
"He's not Zorawar anymore… don't lose yourself trying to find him."
Vyuk didn't speak. His fingers twitched slightly, almost reaching out — but they stopped midway. He couldn't.
Kairav gave him one last look, then stepped back into the shadows. Within seconds, he vanished, as thunder cracked overhead and the sky turned grey.
On the way back...
Zorwath walked calmly, blood still fresh on his armor. He didn't even look at Vyuk as he spoke, voice relaxed.
"They always leave when it gets hard. But not you. That's why I trust you, Vyuk."
Vyuk's reply was cold and sharp like a dagger.
"Don't mistake my presence for loyalty. I just want to see how far you fall."
Zorwath laughed—a low, bitter sound.
