The Wolf's Game
My breath comes shallow.
“What?” I whisper.
Dax finally lifts his head. Our eyes meet. There is no malice there, no threat, only resignation.
“I didn’t ask for this,” he says quietly.
The sound of his voice, so human, so tired, makes the horror of it all worse.
The Herald lets out another wet chuckle, blood spilling freely now, pooling at his feet in dark, reflective puddles.
“The Game finds balance in cruelty,” he intones. “And you, Aria Vale, have always been its favorite imbalance.”