Dragoncrest Cliffs i pull god's roots out

Artaax grumbled in annoyance as Blixen came to his side and gave him a rough jab. He lifted his head to frown at her wordlessly and would've dropped it again had she not addressed their brother, who had come to join them. His face shifted to the stoic mask he usually wore as she rolled and pressed himself up into a seated position at Blixen's side, silently wondering what this was going to be about. If Bobby was about to start discussing the distance in their relationship, Artaax was so gone.

Being the creature he was, Artaax did not notice the subtle signs his brother showed that would otherwise have warned him something terrible was coming. He thought Bobby was just being weird, and the feisripa's patience began to wane at a drastic rate. When finally the words came, Artaax merely stared at him - his empty expression unchanged. The sentence made no sense to him, either due to the utter absurdity of the notion, or the last vestige of self-preservation the boy had left in him after being worn so thin by the loss of his sisters and mother not long ago.

Heda could not be dead.

She couldn't.

He stared at his brother in silence more deafening than any he'd ever known before.