Alaric paused.
His blade hovered inches from Vivienne's throat, flames casting dancing shadows across her terrified face.
For a long moment, nothing moved but the rain.
Then, slowly, he lowered his blade.
But he didn't sheathe it.
Instead, he turned his head, looking past Vivienne to where Renard was struggling to stand.
The younger Valtair pushed himself up on shaking arms, his body still twitching from the residual lightning coursing through his nerves.
Alaric smiled behind his scarf.
"Run."
Renard's eyes widened. He looked up at the hooded figure through the rain, breathing hard, not understanding.
"Run," Alaric repeated, his voice cold and almost... playful. "Run if you want to live."
For a heartbeat, Renard just stared.
Then survival instinct kicked in.
He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the screaming pain in his ribs, and ran.
