Ignoring the sea of trembling spears pointed at his back, Sol calmly wiped his dripping palms on his thighs and leaned down toward the ground.
Kira and Zeyra lay pinned down, their eyes wide, breath catching in their throats.
Sol knelt down before them, his movements languid and relaxed, entirely ignoring the thousands of armed enemies encircling him.
He reached out with his bare, bloodied hand, catching the edge of the coarse hemp rope binding Kira's wrists. With a flick of his wrist, his fingers dug directly through the thick cordage, snapping the heavy ropes as if they were wet threads.
He reached up and gently pulled the cloth gag from Kira's mouth.
Kira stared up at him, tears of relief and lingering terror breaking through the dust on her cheeks.
She tried to speak, her lips trembling, but no sound came out.
Sol smiled softly… a genuine, warm expression that looked entirely alien on a man whose body was painted in fresh human blood.
