Rising of a feeble mate
He was screeching.
A gurgling, inhuman noise as he scrambled backwards across the dirt, one hand covering the gaping socket where his right eye had once been. His left arm was gone, ripped clean at the shoulder. He wouldn't be healing from that.
Blood sprayed in arcs as he scurried like an animal, terrified and blind, away from something.
From Nox.
He lay near the center of the clearing.
Still.
Breathing, barely. His form was wrecked beyond anything I’d ever seen. His abdomen was torn open, and lodged in the wound was Rohan’s missing arm, twisted unnaturally, still twitching like it hadn’t figured out it was dead yet.
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