The tears those traitors tried to return, but he forced them back with almost physical violence. Not anymore. Never again. His face shut like a slammed door, his features hardened under the influence of an icy rage that seeped into his veins, gradually replacing his blood with something denser, darker. With each step, that sensation grew, carving a dizzying abyss deep within his soul.
Time an illusion now lost all meaning. Hours passed, fluid and elusive. The streetlights drifted by like slumbering sentinels, the neighborhoods changed their appearance under his indifferent steps, and the few night wanderers instinctively moved out of his way, as if even in their drunkenness, they perceived the aura of danger emanating from him. The sky, once a deep blue, darkened into an ocean of ink where pale stars swam, indifferent to the suffering of men.
