''I apologize. I just recalled a few old memories.''
Adyr's voice came light, almost playful, his laughter spilling into the dim, stinking room and circling back on itself as it bounced between the cracked walls and the ceiling stained by years of smoke, and the man's features twisted first with confusion and then with anger.
His jaw clenched, veins standing at his temple as his boots scraped over the rough concrete; with the boy already in his grip, he yanked him close and drove a fist deep into his stomach.
The impact sent a heavy, dull sound through the air, followed by a short gasp as Adyr folded and collapsed to the ground like a sack of flour thrown from a cart.
"You said memories?" The man's voice cracked through his teeth, rough and low.
He stepped forward and kicked the boy—once, twice, again. His boots struck soft flesh, each hit sounding wetter than the last.
