[SWE] The Festival of Lights

The lanterns all flickered at once, and Kalt immediately bent down and took Theea into his arms, an overly cautious look on his face, as his eyes flicked all around them. Suddenly, darkness.       Kalt narrowed his gaze to the bonfire and the one lantern still alight. What was happening? Theea was absently squirming in his grasp, wanting to make another lantern with Ashetta and upset she wasn’t able to. She giggled at the feeling of something touching her cheek, but Kalt froze. This wasn’t okay.       As light crept back, the man lost his breath, and the little girl stopped moving around, looking at the surrounding area with wide eyes. They were severely outnumbered, something Kalt had never liked.       His sight landed on Harkon, a silent pain in that gaze. The man was the closest thing to a brother Kalt ever had. Gods, he had died… He didn’t know he had died, didn’t stick around after escaping other than to warn Orynth to stay away so that he wasn’t captured. He wished there had been time to get Harkon out, but he really wished the man had been able to escape the cells.       Every face in the crowd of over a thousand people was one that Kalt recognized. He knew every single one and remembered how each and every one had been killed. He even saw the face of the first kill he ever made as a child...that boy who was abusing the puppy. Every one of those kills brought out a sadistic pride in the man, but the one face that had him chilled to the bone wasn’t a face at all.       He stared down those hooded eyes, that faceless mask which haunted his dreams even when he knew the face beneath it. Without thinking, Kalt moved to the side, his arm extended out to keep a barrier between Ashe and the figure of their Master. Only...he didn’t seem to be looking at Ashe, rather at the little girl on the verge of tears in Kalt’s arms.       Silver Wing wore a look that was almost a sneer at the masked creature standing before him.       This was impossible, couldn’t be real, couldn’t.     “I didn’t let you touch her in Northwind,” he whispered, meant only for the figure in front of him, as he moved his hand so he was holding Ashe’s firmly, “and you won’t be touching either of them now.” Any twisted pride he felt in front of his numerous kills was smothered by the hatred and disdain he felt in the presence of his Master. ”What’s the meaning of this?” He demanded to whoever was around, fury in his voice rather than sentiment or fear.       Still, he kept his eyes locked on the man in the mask. He had taken his eyes away from one too many times in Northwind, and at that thought, he felt the scars over his back reopen once again from the whip that he wore at his side then and there. He fought - and thankfully succeeded - to keep the shudder that threatened him at bay, as he watched carefully. Kalt I  am flesh and I am bone, i rise up, ting ting, like glitter and gold i've got fire in my soul