Thud!
Maybe because this was his first time experiencing a form of love. A form of affection. Something he had never achieved in his past life.
Maybe. That's why. He could not bear to imagine, if something would happen to them.
Not after all this. Not after letting them believe in him.
"...haaaa..." he sighed.
He stood by the balcony, half-shadowed by the dying light. Merlin and Aurora still debated, their voices weaving around the arcane tension in the air.
The circular formation drawn in thick, clotted crimson glistened with unnatural sheen. Sigils—etched in strokes too old for even time to remember—writhed on the surface of the blood, forming new meanings with each passing moment.
Symbols of a demon language, forbidden and forgotten.
Yet Atlas could read them.
And that disturbed him more than the blood itself.
