Noctisardor Bypass the last few drops from the holy grail

Anselm’s stealth was perhaps the only reason he temporarily blindsided the mountain; at Glaukos’ snapping teeth he sprung back, a new welt of merlot beads searing his flesh.

 Etienne backed away. Anselm wanted to scream for him to run, but he could afford no distractions. He was terrifyingly aware that the kidnapper might well be his own maker. There was a titanic gravitas to him, and he flung Anselm aside with an ease that would have awed the tracker were it not for the hatred that now coursed in his blood. 

Two seconds slower, and Glaukos may have seized his throat between his teeth. 

Anselm did not register Druid’s screams, or even Heda’s command as she fell upon them. Anselm mistakenly assumed she was here to kill Glaukos too. He did not understand the true reason for the man’s motives, and so simply assumed the worst.

This man hurt Etienne — that blinded Anselm with so much chattering rage that he was sick from it. He saw nothing but the red tide of revenge — and he would stop at nothing to see this man pay tribute to the blood-tithe that was Anselm’s vengeance.  

While he hoped Glaukos was momentarily distracted by Heda, Anselm lunged again. This time, they were face to face — and without surprise on his side Anselm was painfully aware of just how monstrously large this man was. He would risk it all if it meant Etienne would escape.  No matter the cost to his own life in the process.