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I don't remember how long I sat there, from wanting to kill him myself for sabotaging Pixie to seeing both of them lose from my life because of the same being.
The world around me had gone completely silent.
The courtyard, once filled with screams and crashing magic, was nothing but broken stone and drifting dust. The air smelled of blood and burnt earth.
As for my hands…they wouldn't stop shaking.
Grandpa's hand was still in mine, cold now. His blood painted my palm, dark and sticky, drying under the crimson light of dusk.
The old man wasn't moving.
He wasn't breathing.
He wasn't anything anymore.
I stared at him, waiting for him to make one of his dumb jokes.
Waiting for him to groan and say, "Didn't I tell you not to get emotional, brat?"
Waiting for anything.
But he just lay there, still, quiet...and gone.
The Kalki was already far away, flying slowly as his body drifted with Pixie's in the sky.
