Red
The broken arm hurt like a b***h. But so did his entire body, not to mention his soul which wasn’t supposed to exist. The fires loomed everywhere around him, and Red just stood on the ground, above the melting ice, trapping the lifeless body of an elf who might have died long ago, and the desperate cries of thousands of wraiths who destroyed his land and people. Again.
Yet, it seemed like none of this actually mattered. As he stood there, staring with silent horror at the pale relaxed face which he loved so much, Red didn’t dare to breathe. He didn’t hear the battle roars, he didn’t care about the careless mistake of letting his power burn too quickly, he didn’t care if his people won the battle or not.
Probably it made him a bad person, but he was too tired to analyze it right now
