Zed stares at Kayn. There is a familiar fire in his eyes, an expression that carries with it a thousand emotions, hatred, betrayal, confusion, desperation, and above all, a sharp, burning wrath that threatens to consume everything in his path, starting with Zed.
“No,” Zed says, voice firm. He has said it once already; there is no taking the words back. “You are a tool, not a leader. You will always be nothing but a weapon for others to use. Why would you ever assume anything else?”
If only the fool had understood that, Zed thinks, even as Kayn’s jaw tenses and his grip on the scythe tightens. Perhaps things would have been different.
Maybe Kayn has the same thought. His eyes harden, he lifts the scythe into the sky, and Zed calls out the seemingly inevitable order.
“Kill him.”
