A sense of helplessness spread though Rowan as his eyes roamed over the jumble of putrid corpses. All these lives, destroyed. And for what?
For once he didn't know where to begin.
It didn't help that the strength of the toxic energy flowing from the bodies had begun to make him dizzy. His head swam with it, and he had the feeling that it wanted to disorient him.
A different kind of unease filled him when he glanced at Wren, who lingered by the side of the empty bed, still as a statue except for the red pulse of Disorder that now seeped from between the fingers of his balled up fists.
"Wren?" Rowan called out to him, but he didn't respond.
A foreign emotion pricked deep inside Rowan's chest. The needle-sharp sting numbed his core and turned his blood to ice as a sudden panic threatened to overwhelm him.
This was all wrong.
