Ezrik coughed hard as air was knocked out violently from his lungs.
And then he saw Lars Hail standing there, eyes blown wide, chest frozen, not breathing.
Viggo sprinted to him in sheer panic, grabbing Lars by the shoulders and shaking him as if he could force air back into him.
"No, no... please, don't! Lars, PLEASE don't!" Viggo's voice cracked into a sob.
Ezrik stared, stunned.
And suddenly.... They weren't the Hail twins anymore.
They were replaced by a woman with long silver hair, lifeless green eyes staring at nothing, her stomach torn open, blood soaking the mist around her.
And a small six-year-old Ezrik kneeling in it. His tiny hands shaking her shoulders, his face wet with tears.
"Mummy, no! Mummy please don't leave me!"
The memory snapped away as violently as it came.
Ezrik inhaled sharply. "Breathe."
Lars gasped. Air rushing back into his lungs and collapsed to his knees, gulping breath after breath.
