Elfar couldn't picture his future, though. It faded into his memory. He just couldn't visualize it. Instead, he saw Mora smiling in his memory. Mora, he smiles and pranks her. Elfar shook his head. When she died on his arms, she was wearing a bloodstained tunic and had her long silver hair tied in a ponytail. Her last words. Elfar wanted to forget it all. But his heart couldn't just forget the pain and grief creeping out from inside as his demon howled in anguish.
Yet, she was gone. Gone from his warm embrace forever. He wanted to cry, to sob his guts out. To scream. To just kill all the rogues. His heart ached; it was like the waves of grief washed over him, for his tears needed their time to pass. And the first rays of his hatred and dark thoughts emerge in that solemn tiptoe moment that stretches out in operatic waves.
