The morning sun began to dissipate the night's cold over the empty capital. The blood dome had disappeared long ago.
Kyrian remained in the same spot, sitting on the stone steps of the house in front of the garden where he had buried the bodies.
He could still feel the presence of that drop of blood in his mind, after paying a little more attention, it was like an invisible thread, a light but constant weight connecting him to Wei Feng.
After waiting the entire night, the old man emerged from a nearby house.
The door creaked open. But the figure that appeared was no longer the same as the one Kyrian had seen enter with the flowers.
The cadaverous, blood-covered old man no longer existed. Kyrian felt genuine shock.
The man who walked out was tall and imposing. His hair and beard were still gray like snow, marks that would continue to show that not much life remained.
