The sky had finally cleared.
Golden rays of sunlight descended upon Arkham as if the previous storm had been nothing more than a bad memory. The clouds, now scattered and slow-moving, drifted away with an almost insulting calm.
Adam held that image a moment longer than necessary.
Too much calm after too much blood.
He kept his face serene as the pain in his ribs insisted on reminding him of every previous reckless movement. He shifted his weight slightly onto his cane, without letting the gesture appear to be a necessity.
In front of him, Alaric finished crossing the training field. The small wooden box rested carefully in his hands. His expression, however, was different.
Adam looked away slightly.
Renna stood stiffly beside him. Her hands clenched the fabric of her clothes too tightly, and a faint sheen of sweat covered her forehead despite the cool air of the day. She wasn't used to this.
