"Oh shit." Glax took out his pistol, out of pure instinct. "Kal, you better light it up soon, or get out of there."
"Hm? Why?" Kal raised his head, as he was crouched down protecting the flame he had just made with sticks and peat. The dead centaur raised his head, staring at Glax.
The magic that permeated this bizarre event had a powerful command. The machine had a function, and the reset had resumed its default programming. Meleagor was inaccessible again, it was just a fuel to animate the machine.
The Valosian gasped.
"It's just a question, but you won't like to hear it, anyway. What would you do if chopping Meleagor into a thousand pieces was the only way to send him on the right route? Would you still do it?" Glax unlocked the pistol, while the centaur's fingers groped the surface of branches beneath him.
