Vasa, ever the analyst, was the first to ask a practical question. "The Puppet Master's army is now leaderless. What is your command?"
Nox looked down at the confused mass of players in the schoolyard. "They are a resource," he said, his voice cold. "We will absorb them into our own forces. We need every soldier we can get."
He turned and started to walk toward the edge of the roof. "Let's go. We have a city to rebuild."
As they made their way down into the school, they passed the spot where Mark had died. The memory hit Nox like a physical blow, a ghost of the helpless, angry boy he had been. He paused for a second, his hand unconsciously going to the hilt of the sword he no longer carried.
Serian, who had joined them on the roof, noticed his hesitation. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he said, and kept walking. But he wasn't fine. The past was not as dead as he had thought.
