Notia touch the frail crimson petals of once strong flower, now it had been stomped and desecrated. Crushed beneath the sole of someone’s boots. He looked behind his shoulder, pass the only woman to have accompanied them, and beyond the dense forestry that loomed in wait. A small part of him could see it, the imaginary trip back into the past. A shadow-veiled figure skillfully darting through the moonlit forest, careful to leave no traces but in a hurry irregardless.

[i]Perhaps-[/i], he had begun to think before hearing the beautiful Ambroise voice her concern. 

Secretly, he felt himself drift into empathy for her, something that only happened when his sixth-sense had willed it to. Her voice was thinly glazed with apprehension or caution;  a soft, clear wax that asked for acceptance or acknowledgement. He fixed his gaze to the ground now, making sure to avoid her curious eyes just in case his staring had become worrisome.   

A breath escaped him and from the silence of the others, whom he had hoped to answer her, he spoke calm, gentle; his wrist falling to the hilt of his katana: Cragsky. [b] “The Goddess does not make mistakes. Four for one. It will take at least this much. Are you afraid?”[/b] he asked indifferent. 

[@Asuras]