Firen, the leader of the band of seven, no, now five, Osha, and Purin were lost in mere moments after entering the prison of the Dark One, and he had no time to mourn; with everything that had been happening, he doubted he would ever be able to get that time.
He gripped his blade so tight that he could hear micro popping at the joints of his gauntlet as his armor was the shield that carried his pain and fury, but mostly pain. Their deaths were expected, all of them dying here was expected, and yet it still hurt. He had watched too many people die, and the last bastions of his sanity, his wife Osha and his friend Purin were gone, and the darkness never seemed so close.
