This is an excerpt from an unpublished issue of my main story, Assassin's Blade. Spoilers inbound.
Drip. Drip. Drip598Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqVIKMR33ZD
Kieran staggered back, holding his beloved dagger at arm’s length as though it had betrayed him.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
His body felt weak as he looked at the decimated corpse that lay in a pool of blood nearby, discarded as if it had been flung aside like a shattered blade.
Drip. Drip.
The assassin let his dagger fall from his hands and fell to one knee as the realisation of what he had done washed over him, like a tsunami crashing into a wooden palisade, a pathetic defence against such a powerful force. His clothing was soaked in blood, dyeing him dark against the starless night and making him appear as no more a shadow.
Drip. Drip.
Blood – Kalen’s blood – dripped down from his hand and splattered the grasses covering the ground, turning them red as if angered or shamed. He kneeled, aghast, staring at his handiwork, unable to come to terms with what he had done to his friend.
Drip. Drip.
His mind replayed the events that transpired repeatedly, unable to grasp the situation or the reasoning behind his sudden outburst.
Drip.
What had caused this to happen?
Drip.
Why had he attacked his companion with such vehemence?
Drip.
Why had he killed Kalen?
Connor.
The name came to him suddenly, a thin rope lowered to him in the dank pits of his mind.
Connor did this.
It began to make sense to Kieran. The set of his face changed from shock and confusion to defiance and anger.
It was Connor’s fault this happened.
The assassin clenched his fist so hard his knuckles turned white. His mind raced furiously, endlessly circling around the blame to his brother he had sworn to destroy.
Connor made me kill him. Just as he made me kill our mother and father. He made me kill Kalen.
I have to kill Connor.
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