"Really? Going out to spit out the truth isn't such a good idea, is it?"
The voice slid through the chamber like a blade across glass, sharp, mocking, and filled with heat.
Justin froze where he stood. His heart skipped, then raced uncontrollably, thudding in his ears. Cold sweat poured down his back, yet the air around him was anything but cold. The temperature in the room climbed instantly, suffocating, thick, and stifling.
Both he and Zakar turned.
There, at the doorway, stood a man. He wasn't tall enough to seem imposing, yet his very presence crushed the atmosphere into submission.
His yellow robe clung loosely to his scarred body, its edges charred as if fire lived in his veins. A battered farmer's cap cast a shadow over most of his face, but his eyes betrayed him.
They burned. Literally burned. Two flames crackled where his eyes should have been, twisting and flaring with every slight movement of his head. The glow painted the chamber in shades of molten orange.
