When Dawn Dies Down

The Eyes in the Alley

It was at the Northern Centre of Ranhbniz, where the ruins laid lifelessly, destroyed, covered with ashes. The bricks were broken into pieces. If you weren't here before, you'll never know that this was a once flourishing church.
Around it, the people stood afraid, for their holy place was no more, and that lone scorched body in the middle.
The body slept there, without a single bit of skin left. The white bones were gray, for they were covered by thick layers of ashes. The face was what scared the people the most. The jaw was dropped, some remaining muscles twisted, as if the victim was screeching in terror before his death.
Last night, a boom had shocked the entire town. From what it seemed, a bomb was detonated inside the church. The holy hall of light and hope exploded, becoming pieces. All were gone — the paintings, statues, books, and Priest Warice who lived inside it.
The people had no clue on who did such a terrible thing, but yet again, it was blamed on Nameless. At this point, people didn't even say he did it anymore. They said nothing, because every one of them knew it in their hearts, because accusing him had become a norm.
And because of that, they never noticed the tall, fit, shadow running out of the church when it exploded. It couldn't have been Nameless, considering how sick and weak he looked. But again, no one paid a single bit of attention to the shadow. So, naturally, not a single person would suspect it was Powell Wisconsin.
It was when he fled the scene that Powell realized how big of a mistake he had made. There were merely any houses surrounding the church, forming a gigantic clearing. If he were to be discovered when he ran away from the church, he would be no more better than dead, and his goal would never be finished. But it seemed like the people were way too focused on Nameless to notice him, and so he got away.
Or at least he thought so.
Just like the other people, he was too focused on one thing. Never did he notice that from the moment he started to carry out his plan, one tiny, dexterous shadow had been following him through the dark and narrow alleys.
Someone was there too.
They were there with him from the start, yet he had no idea. They witnessed everything — him sneakily walking, him steadying himself, him shaking and detonating the bomb, him fleeing from the destroyed church like a mouse, and most importantly, his determination for doing such an evil deed, for they had seen his freezing blue eyes steadily shine in the blinding darkness.
They were clueless, flabbergasted by how cold-hearted and inhumane enough he was able to do this, not to mention so determinedly, and even more, why he had to do this. Why did he have to give up his conscience, for someone so insignificant? Why did he hate him so much that he gave up what distinguishes humans from animals?
However, there was one more thing they wanted to witness of Powell.
His demise.
As Powell ran away in the opposite direction when the church went into ashes, a pair of big, warm hazel eyes were staring at him. The person knew that Nameless was clearly framed by someone, and they knew, there was no better thing to destroy someone's reputation totally than to blow something up and kill someone at the same time. It's just they didn't know who was doing this.
But they knew.
It was Irwin White.