As the villagers filed out of their town in a slow, solemn procession in the rain, small, beady eyes watched them. It scanned them one by one, observing, questioning. A Tel'makian priest led them out to a small field not to far away. The field, full of carved gravestones, had a fresh hole dug. The funeral continued with the priest saying his mantras, the family sobbing over the wooden coffin, and the body being laid to rest in the ground. How very sad.
The owner of the beady eyes sneered. Why grieve over the dead? They were gone to the shadows, never to return. The wailing was irritating, and the ceremonies a waste of time. Then he spotted something unusual: one of the crowd, a massive man wearing a hooded cape, stepped forward. He wasn't part of the family; they were all stood to the side together, and the mammoth man had come from the masses. He didn't wear the Tel'makian robes to be a graveside orator, but he too began to speak, rousingly by all indications from the crowd. When he finished, there was applause, and the family shook his hands. The beady eyes rolled.
The massive man lowered his hood to speak to a woman, revealing a head full of long, golden hair. The beady eyes caught their breath.
It was him.
Rage boiled in him, irritating the wound on his throat. His breath came in huge, wheezing gasps as he lay a comforting hand on his throat, dipping into his Well to ease the near-constant pain he felt. Pain the tall blonde had caused.
Pain he would soon feel.
Every fiber of the beady eyes' body wanted to sprint down there, hurling every spell and scrap of magic energy at the blonde, but his mind knew that doing so only meant assured death. To kill the blonde, he would need a flawless plan. Nothing could be left to chance. He would need redundancies upon his redundancies' redundancies. Everything would have to be perfect. And that meant everything would take time.
He had spent three months tracking the blonde down. He could wait a little longer.
Still smoldering with rage, the beady eyes watched the blonde pull his hood back up, join the crowd, and walk back into the village. And for now, the eyes were watching.
Still watching.
Now plotting.
YOU ARE READING
The War God's Wife
RomanceShe has no desire for marriage. Calliena has her hands full being the assistant in her father's clinic and keeping them afloat. Not that she hasn't had her fair share of suitors; she just never had any interest in boys looking for a pretty face or...
