Zariel was silent, measuring the Warrden, who sought death even in his final moments. He'd been the same way—worse. He almost wanted to sneer at the softness of it all. Time. What was the endless tide of time before the torment of the Hells? The destitute of awakening to a new sort of torment. Death was a mercy he had never been granted. At least in death, there was silence. There was peace…. If even it were an illusion.
He sighed, forcing his eyes away. He sauntered past the Warrden up the flight of stairs.
Aurelia trailed behind him, her eyes locked on his slight figure. 'That look is back,' she thought, ' the same one he had when we first crossed paths.' A smile tugged at her lips as she reached out, gently nudging his arm. "What's on your mind?" she asked.
"Nothing."