Noah
Noah inhaled slowly, forcing the breath deep into his chest. Grief had stripped him bare, left him hollow—but rage filled the space where sorrow had carved him open. A quiet, searing thing, not the reckless fire of vengeance that had driven him before the Second War, but something colder. Sharper. Purposeful.
The Void had taken enough. The Family had taken enough.
If the gods willed him to be their hand, then he would carve through the darkness until nothing remained of it. He would not fail them again.
The rest of the night was spent continuing to catch up with Sah, fill their bellies, and even share a drink together before Noah headed back towards his home to be there before his children fell asleep.
FIN
The Void had taken enough. The Family had taken enough.
If the gods willed him to be their hand, then he would carve through the darkness until nothing remained of it. He would not fail them again.
The rest of the night was spent continuing to catch up with Sah, fill their bellies, and even share a drink together before Noah headed back towards his home to be there before his children fell asleep.
FIN
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
And detached as boats to the dock?
