Soren wanted to forget. He wanted to forget everything that happened that day. To forget about the girl, about her strange fearlessness, about how odd he felt being in the presence of someone who wasn't afraid. And though Soren went back to killing, to draining the nymphs and the sprites and the pixies who danced at revels in the Great Forest- swaying their hips and biting their lips at him, a part of him was missing. He still loved the sound of their screams, of the hot sounds of the beating heart and the feeling of sticky, sweet blood trickling down his throat. But every day he found himself more and more conflicted. He couldn't put aside how oddly good it felt to be unfeared, couldn't keep the words that little angel had told him from ringing in his head like an ever chiming bell.
He hated her for it.
