Ashen sat slumped at his desk, one hand buried in his hair, the other holding a quill that had stopped moving long ago.
Several reports, endless summons, and demands from the council pressed on him like a physical burden… It felt like they did these on purpose every day to keep him busy.
His head rested on the table, silver hair falling over his face, but his senses were still sharp.
The last few days had been relentless, and tonight, with the festival coming near.
His office's silence chamber was shattered in an instant when the minute's spear tore through the air.
Ashen's instincts flared. He was on his feet and gone from his chair before thought could even catch up with movement.
The weapon embedded itself into the wooden backrest where his heart had been moments ago. Splinters rained across the floor.
His chest heaved once, then stilled.
