I watched her without saying much, letting the silence stretch between us. There wasn't much I could say in a situation like this—what words could possibly ease her pain, her fury? What words could give her justice for everything that had been taken from her people?
I wasn't much better off, though, was I? I had been a victim of his plots, sure, but what did that even make me now? I had long since shed that label. I was a killer, plain and simple. Nothing else. The souls I consumed, those shattered fragments of lives, they'd never find rest. They'd never reincarnate, at least not in the way that they once had. Did I care? Not in the slightest. I had no room for sympathy in my heart—not for enemies. And not for myself, either.
I could feel the weight of her gaze on me, but I didn't return it, not yet. Instead, I listened. She spoke again, pouring out more of the twisted tale that had shaped the world she lived in. Her voice wavered at times, but her anger never faltered.
