Two Eyes Cenote sixty-first

First, the howl of bas displaced had jerked him from his stupor, then the cry of fellahin.

Murder!, they screamed murder!. The rolling cries, they follow Akhtar as he strides down the hall.

Melody. She is laid before him, cleaned of blood, but the ghastly wound in her throat makes him instinctively grimace. Akhtar turns his mahogany gaze to the younger priest, then back to the woman.

Dead, she looks more a girl than young woman.

It does not spell good for our current stance here, nor for a coronation. He’s rocked, but tries not to show it.

Not good at all.