Dust rose around the limp form of Velisar Mhaerun.
He looked like a broken puppet. His fine robes torn. His silveish veins dimmed. Mouth agape.
"Just a lousy mutt," Nocth muttered, stepping back, chest heaving.
Anni jumped up and down. "He won! He won! Nocthy won!"
Relin, still standing in that unnervingly calm posture, smiled and shook his head.
"Old Jhin," he murmured under his breath. "You sure know how to pick 'em."
He glanced at Velisar's unconscious form with neither pity nor concern. Then to Nocth—his eyes glinting like someone who had just confirmed a theory long suspected.
Nocth didn't speak. The battle had quieted something in him, yet awakened something else. The thrill. The resolve.
Velisar Mhaerun would wake up days later, jaw broken, vest corrupted, ego shattered.
But for now, the bird was caged no more.
And the twilight between stars had begun to shine.