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“I’ll fight it, sir,” Alessio spoke quietly.

Nithel looked toward him, the man’s eyes were warm, still kind. Whether Alessio was some strange race that could use fire, or a warlock… He was his friend. The first couldn’t be helped, and the latter was wrong. But a wrong could be righted. Confusion fought in the gates of Nithel’s eyes, but he wouldn’t give up what he knew, for what he didn’t. Alessio was his friend.

“if you order me to. It would give you enough time to escape.” Alessio’s voice was of one who had given up. On everything.

Why? What had brought that about? “You won’t fight alone.” Nithel’s tone was firm, still staring at the youth. Whatever the thing was, he wouldn’t leave his friend. Even if he died. ‘Death is where friendships are sealed.’ Nithel had won against wolves, and a bear…. But this seemed different.

He waited, silent.

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