"What?!" Riley shouted and drew out his sword.
Ingram's eyes widened, and his lips turned to a smirk. "You don't remember," he cackled out a laugh. "You don't remember what happened on that night."
What is he talking about? What happened? A scar that was under his hair throbbed.
"You think you ran away to follow your dreams? For love? No brother–" Ingram walked around the table and started to close the distance between them. "–you ran because of guilt."
"Get away from me," Riley shouted and against his will, the sword lowered. He felt the throbbing of the scar increasing with each second.
"Me getting away won't stop it from being a fact," Ingram said in a low tone. "You killed your mother, not me. You – did – matricide."
"N–no, I didn't. . ." he was no longer talking to Ingram, he was talking to himself. Something started to stir inside him, a terrible vortex, an unending storm, and Riley was scared to look into the eye of it.
