The aftermath settled over the plaza like ash after a wildfire. Hawkin stood motionless, watching the shadows where Jorghan had disappeared, his golden aura finally flickering out completely. Blood ran from half a dozen wounds, none serious but all painful reminders of how close he'd come to death.
"Father," Caden limped over, one arm hanging useless at his side. "What just happened? Who was that?"
Hawkin was silent for a long moment, his gaze still fixed on the darkness. When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of twelve years of grief. "That was my nephew. Jorghan sol'vur, son of Draeven and Maris. The boy I thought died with the rest of our clan." He turned to look at his son, and Caden was startled to see tears tracking through the blood on his father's face. "That was family."
