7

He made a grave mistake by throwing his axe in his enemy's direction.

Though the axe cut deep into the rogue's chest, he pulled it out and started to heal almost immediately.​

Dax was expecting the rogue to fight him with his axe, but to his greatest surprise, the rogue threw the axe aside and chuckled.

“How shallow of you to think that a silver-coated axe will kill me, Dax.” He scolded, sounding disappointed.

There was something familiar about the rogue that made Dax curious.

“Who are you?” He asked the rogue without losing concentration on the fact that the man was still his grave enemy.

“I’m a merchant and my task was to kill you,” his enemy replied.

“You speak of your task in the past tense,” he stated the obvious.

“I don’t pay evil with evil. Once a friend, always a friend.” The rogue facial expression softened and became hopeful like he was clinging to a memory.

“It… it… can’t… be,” Dax stammered, he was unsure of the revelation that had overshadowed his thoug