I looked at the boy, and the coldness in me wanted to kill him, and this was not necessarily out of cruelty; it was just simple deduction. This child was a member of the Conclave, and he was a part of the atrocity happening; who knows if he had killed other children in his time here, and what sort of monster he could grow to become.
I had set myself to clear the Conclave from this continent; if I was not killed, then I would kill them all, and that promise did not have room in it for the question of whether what I was killing was a child or if they were afraid of dying.
Closing my eyes, I looked back at the memories of my slaughter, and yes, I had killed children in some of them, but I wondered why I was not killing this child and moving on.
I slowly raised my hand, and the boy began to shake, while whispering under his breath; well, he thought he was whispering, but I could hear everything he was saying as if he was screaming it into my ears.
