Bad Memories

>>Ariston (Present)

The stone beneath my boots was cracked and bloodstained, but I barely noticed anymore. The courtyard buzzed with murmurs and the shifting armor of soldiers. Yet my mind was elsewhere—still chasing shadows through the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of him again.

Drakkar's voice broke through the hum. "That man… he was your kind?" He looked a little surprised, "There are more like you?"

I didn't look at him. "He was the only one I ever met who was."

Drakkar's silence pressed against my shoulders like weight. Then he spoke, quieter now. "That can't be the only reason you're looking for him."

I turned away.

His footsteps followed. "Ariston—"

"Leave it," I snapped.

But he reached for my arm, fingers curling tightly around my wrist. The contact burned, and I yanked free with more force than necessary.

"I'm looking for him," I growled, "because I need to know something."

"What?" He asked.