Mar 16
The valley falls silent as the fight nears its end. The black haired man lays on the ground, blood gushing from his mouth and a small stream of the liquid trickling from his nose. His chest rises and falls shakily. The other man stands above him, spear pointed firmly at his chest, foot planted on the broken wrist of the mage’s dominant hand.
The silence of the fight’s end is broken by the voice of the standing man as he says, panting, “One last thing before I kill you.”
Unfocused, purple eyes meet the other’s.
“Why me? Why spare me?”
The bleeding man chuckles, pained and quietly. “I just saw a bit of myself in you.”
