Chapter 47: The Culling of Wolves

*Belasarius*

I had no right still being conscious after all that, but my brain was stuck in survival mode, dedicating everything it had towards keeping me conscious and aware. As such, I was treated to the sight of my father’s limp, bloody corpse standing straight up like a puppet being lifted onto its feet by its strings.

The White Eye was here. We had failed.

He chuckled at Gravestone’s terrified face, how he held me tighter, protectively against his chest. “Why do you look so distressed?” he(?) asked, his voice disturbingly close to human in cadence and tone. “This is a good thing, don’t you see? This is a very, VERY good thing.” His chuckling grew in mania ever so slightly. “For now you know, now you know that things cannot possibly get any worse!”