AS SOON as the initiator of the war had died, his head rolling on the ground with no respect whatsoever, everyone halted. They became a living breathing animosity, but there was nothing else they could do except stare at the fallen of the little Prince of Nowhere. After all, they were driven here by him, because of him, and most probably for him, for the rest of his loyal followers.
Now that he was no longer alive to lead the marching steps of the people with revenge, they lost their purpose and their drive.
The war had become a silent death.
Knox was dead.
I stared at his head, his eyes were still open. Those golden eyes that used to calm me, and soothe me when I worried about life, had now become soulless. The window had been closed. Knox would no longer look at me with the same kin
