Bab 955: Forgotten Name

A blazing white light took away Tycondrius' vision. 

...not that vision-blindness affected him so terribly. 

He loosed a deep sigh-- one saturated with annoyance. 

"You smug bastard," He muttered... "Who prayed for *your* intervention? ...It wasn't me, that's for damn certain."

Quietly... calmly... but with rage barely contained, Tycon checked his personal effects. 

Weaponry. Magic jewelry. Articles of clothing. All was as it should be. 

"Hero... the thought's as appealing as a steaming pile of shite... as if I'd accept something like that."

He sensed that the Dark Iron Wolf-Hammer, Tres Leches, was nearby. 

He retrieved it and returned it to his spatial ring. 

"...What fool would accept you as a friend-- and after all that?"

Ophelia Moonwell lied on the grass. She was unconscious, her expression pained. However, her breathing was steady. The trails of tears outlined in ash had dried.