The silence following the execution was absolute. The wind died. All that remained was the sound of Ashley's ragged breathing and the faint crackle of unstable golden energy convulsing around her.
Xavier stared at the frozen statues that had been his companions moments before. Gareth's weathered face, caught mid-shout. Dalen's outstretched hand, reaching for a weapon he'd never grasp. Marta's crossbow, suspended in ice halfway through its fall.
He'd chosen this path. He'd led them here.
These weren't faceless enemies or marks from his past life—these were people who'd trusted him. Who'd followed his lead into this nightmare.
"Xavier." Naomi's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. "Look."
