The ancient stone chamber reeked of battle. Aziel navigated carefully across the floor, his boots crunching over fragments of shattered rock. His eyes swept methodically across the devastation—walls gouged with deep furrows, pillars reduced to rubble, and blood splashes that painted macabre patterns across every surface. The broken remnants of what had once been the formidable sheepman armor lay destroyed like some sort of discarded toy of some malevolent child.
And then, he saw Jonas.
The headless corpse lay sprawled awkwardly on the floor, limbs layed limp. Jonas's powerful frame now nothing more than cooling meat. Aziel's breath caught momentarily in his throat, a slight hitch in his otherwise measured stride. His fingers twitched at his side, an involuntary spasm quickly suppressed. He permitted himself only a single, measured inhalation before continuing his approach toward Arthur.
