Two days elapsed; a sunny 10th of September kindly waved. Between discussion of avenge and justice, Igna drifted with Celina. Trauma and the loss were heavy, a hefty burden only time could fix. Customarily, he stayed at her side and spent days counseling one another. Nothing had changed, the thought glazed Igna's stare. A menace of presence burnt as he washed his teeth, the reflection wasn't of a human nor a god, but a devil. The signet ring burnt vividly, '-destroy everything,' he thought, an idea shared by his other-self. 'The sorrow of my ally's death resounded strongly. He overpowered my emotions, I felt pitiful. Alphia isn't a place one can ride into battle,' he held the basin, blood mixed with the foamed paste, '-the moniker of the devil,' he inhaled, '-to get what I want,' the mind tethered on a difficult thought, '-should I embrace the darker side of what's human?'
'The darker side of humanity, what is it?'
