"Lord Ulric! Lord Ulric! Lord Ulric!" As time slowly slipped by, the chants grew louder, slowly pulling him into a trance as he drifted into his thoughts
All of these… they were now under his command. He only snapped out of it when he sensed a pair of hands wrap around his waist tightly from behind as Lyra's scent wafted into his nostrils.
Inhaling sharply, he waved his hand slightly. Instantly after, silence descended as the crowd slowly dispersed.
Tilting his gaze, he nodded slightly at the elders before him as they recognized the gesture.
It was time. Greyson was to be laid at the clan's sanctuary tomb, where all the great ancestors before him were also laid. The greatest honour any patriarch could ever be bestowed.
While he made his way down, followed by Lyra and some of the elders to inspect the full extent of the damage, and as he walked through the corpses, taking in the bloody carnage once more, his face couldn't help but grimace as a realization slowly dawned on him.
