Lost Creek Hollow plurimi

He came so close that it prickled at Aquillius’s skin. He wasn’t the physical type, a product of his environment, but in that moment, he thought he’d quite like a hug.

He shook off the thought as childish dribble.

Nothing of note.

Just the dark stain of black magic turning him slowly from soldier to beacon of doom.

His single eye watched his father, his idol, the man he’d follow to the ends of the earth, and he flinched to realize that the comfort he’d once drawn from him was now collapsing into a mire of mixed emotions surrounding…well. Everything really.

Aquillius had never been more tired. His knees threatened collapse, but he stood strong.