Dark Soldiers
Shadowalker said, not looking at us, his voice barely audible over the void’s whisper, “assume the worst. For me, and for her.”
Emma, sniffling, nodded vigorously. “Done.”
Mello looked at him, confused. “What?”
“I’ve already run the probabilities,” Emma said, his voice small but clear. “About 190,000 possible outcomes since he said ‘Null Void.’ In 187,000 of them, he doesn’t come back.”
Classy managed a weak chuckle. “That’s… creepy.”
Shadowalker glanced back at us one last time. For a split second, I saw not the ancient demon or the detached teenager, but something else—something resigned, and terribly alone.
Bab Populer