"I should be asking you that," Keiser murmured, his voice low, roughened by weariness.
Tyron's face paled even further at the words. His hands, already restless, clenched and unclenched against his knees as if he didn't know where to place them. "It's just… this feels like it's my fault," he admitted in a voice that cracked at the edges.
Keiser raised an eyebrow.
So this was the same boy who had spoken so boldly before, declaring he could heal him with confidence. Now all that fire had shriveled into ash, leaving behind nothing but a nervous, guilt-ridden youth.
He leaned back against the damp stone wall, studying him.
It wasn't surprising.
Hinnom had been harsh... more dangerous than most villages, with its proximity to Sheol, where beasts and abominations crawled out like maggots from rot.
But danger there was straightforward. They knew what had claws, what had teeth, what wanted to devour you.
The capital was different. Far worse.
Here, beasts wore perfume and silks.
