"It is here… but can this really be called silence." Murky eyes gazed upon rows of machines, armies. Troops of unwavering will.
The protectors pointed blades to the protected—the weeds. No mercy. No heart to be seen.
Blood slid down pavement; souls returned to earth.
Young were the children, their flesh so very tender, as they moved their appendages in the sea of flames.
Mothers clutched their throats for air. Puppets on strings, they floated, fish on hooks; remains dangled.
Fathers held a head, kneeling—hollow whites poised upon a bleeding neck.
"The-these, these people…" stammered a voice, a dim figure hidden in the shadows. "These beasts."
"Oh Diviners, I doubt your information. It's bloody bout to kill me."
A mop of hair peeked out, the shadowed face of Eltic unveiled. His left hand wielded a dagger in reverse grip.
"No, even better. Yanza is cornered. He is a beast, bleeding. Teeth yanked. Neck on a plate."
