Xavriel stood tall among the carnage he had caused. His silver hair was streaked with soot and dust. He rolled his shoulders slowly, deliberately, cracking his neck with the effort of loosening muscles that thrummed with restrained violence.
His eyes glowed with an eerie crimson light. There was no mockery in his expression today. Only a hunger that belonged to something ancient and monstrous. He had allowed his brother throw him across the room not out of powerlessness but because of something deeper.
He wanted him to lose it. Lose himself in the madness of his grief and anguish. If there's one thing Xavriel could bet his life on, it was that his brother was a huge softie and now, he was going to take full advantage of that.
Calithar faced him with his chest rising and falling steadily. He was breathing hard, but his expression still remained frighteningly calm like he hadn't just been provoked beyond reasonable amount.
