There was a boot on Northy's chest before he could attempt to respond. It took all the breath out of his lungs. He stared up at the man of the Third Boundary with all the hatred he could muster. The man was right in the similarity of the colour of their hair. With his vision so obscured, to Northy, it very much seemed like it was himself standing over him – his own reflection. It seemed an almost poetic way to die.
"NO YOU SHALL NOT!" Harland shouted, rushing in again. He was the only one of the three still able to move. He had his sword tight in two hands, and low, and attempted to run it through the man's back once more.
THWACK!
The blow that caught him on his cheek was filled with an unbelievable amount of contempt. Harland fell to the wet sand, with his eyes rolling back in his head. He was delivered the feeling of complete overwhelm, and from it, he found out what true hopelessness felt like.
