It was dusk when Altair opened his eyes within the atelier, surrounded by bodies, young and old. Blood and ash lay sprawled about without care, consumed by shadow flames dancing over the severed limbs. He blinked, unsure how to process what was going on. He could hear the shouts outside, trying to find him. They were shouting for Nox.
His world spun, and his gaze swayed to the canvas of a red world shrouded by blood, ash, and screams. The canvas was screaming at him. He could hear the voices… the young voices of children, the voices of women, and the voices of men. He could hear it all. They were begging him, begging for him to stop! Begging for mercy that would not come.
"W-W-What?" He tore his gaze away, and the voice faded; only the shouts outside continued. Again, his world spun.
"Master?" Altair turned to the voice, fining Tasha on one knee. "I… I didn't know you had that in you."
