Bab 98: falling into a dream [rook islands remix].

Damian lashed out with his feather-blade.

He barely remembered drawing the weapon. His body simply acted on impulse, his arm extending with enough force and speed to tear apart his muscles. Any normal person would have been struck dead where they stood, head severed from their shoulders.

The Ninth Seat of the High Table stopped the blade with two shadow-covered fingers.

"Tsk. So rude. I never knew I was such a rude asshole. I don't like people that are rude, do you know that? I was just introducing myself and you try to kill me? So fucking ungrateful."

The future-borne Damian spoke rapidly, nonsensical words spilling out over his scarred lips. He twisted his wrist, grabbed the sword by the blade, and ripped it out of Damian's grasp.

"No—!!"

Damian reached out for the blade, and in that moment, Agwe shoved him into the entryway.

"Come, we can discuss matters downstairs. Best we stay away from prying eyes, no?"