"Originally," Aetherion said calmly, "we were told to capture you alive. But since then, the rules have changed. This time…"
Aetherion slowly pulled out a shadowy spear, its blade changing shape and form continuously. Sometimes it was slender and sharp; at other times, it was curved, large, and jagged, carrying the air of a warring glaive more than an elegant spear.
Yet, it fit naturally in Aetherion's palm, his gaze having changed.
Before, he lacked the confidence—because dealing with someone like Theron while having it in the back of your mind that you couldn't kill him was troublesome.
Aetherion was intelligent, smart enough to know that before, in all likelihood, killing Theron would have brought more trouble than reward.
But now, things were different. He had been explicitly told to do exactly that.
