Almost immediately, anger began to rise from the deepest depth of Horen's being.
The young man clenched his fists, letting his nails dig down his calloused palms. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't focus. All he could see was the pool of blood spreading under his mother's body.
Horen's shoulders began to shake, and so did his lips. But the young man didn't have the urge to cry. Not in the slightest.
As he heard the rustling of leaves from above, he looked up. Withal, he didn't see anything. He roamed his gaze around, trying to see if the suspect was still around.
He hadn't thought, not even for a second, that Sorsiana and Orelia had killed each other. Horen had been a witness to how caring Sorsiana was to her siblings. It was something that he had envied his aunt and uncles for.
"There's no way. Someone else attacked them. I'm sure of that." He muttered under his breath.
