Naxtaroth
The Raven
Sheut was frozen on the spot. The ships sailed away, the Harbor getting smaller, but all he could focus on was that gaze. That smile that was so full of malice. There was no mistaking that the Necromancers had revived his father and it all made sense now. The door, the symbol, the sunken-eyed man. That must be how Pakhta had gotten into the city so easily. When he had looked into the sunken eyes, he had thought he was looking at someone inside the building, when in reality he was looking at someone thousands of miles away.
He let himself collapse on the boat, sitting there, his gaze still forward, but his view blocked by the wood of the ship. He was starting to doubt everything he had done as a child. How could he tell what was true and what wasn't. The gaps in his memory were plentiful and only one had disappeared. He still couldn't shake that memory. His father, so heartless and cold, forcefully trapping memories he did not want Sheut remembering. He wondered just how many times he had witnessed something his father didn't want him to know.
He was so lost in his thoughts about his father and over the loss of Apophis that he didn't even notice the fox pup trying to get his attention. He just stared ahead, seemingly interested in the wooden planks that the ship was made of. There were others on board who had this same look in their eyes. A look of complete desolation, loss, and horror at what they had witnessed. For once he was not an outcast. Everyone on this ship faced similar losses and similar horrors.
Yet, he still felt like an outcast. He knew everyone on this ship would hate the Necromancers. They would hate any form of undead. Sheut, however, would try to find a way to revive Apophis. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of being an outcast among outcasts, which got him plenty of dirty looks and strange glances. After all, who but a mad man would laugh after witnessing a city burned to the ground, the people slaughtered mercilessly by beings of complete evil.
He let himself collapse on the boat, sitting there, his gaze still forward, but his view blocked by the wood of the ship. He was starting to doubt everything he had done as a child. How could he tell what was true and what wasn't. The gaps in his memory were plentiful and only one had disappeared. He still couldn't shake that memory. His father, so heartless and cold, forcefully trapping memories he did not want Sheut remembering. He wondered just how many times he had witnessed something his father didn't want him to know.
He was so lost in his thoughts about his father and over the loss of Apophis that he didn't even notice the fox pup trying to get his attention. He just stared ahead, seemingly interested in the wooden planks that the ship was made of. There were others on board who had this same look in their eyes. A look of complete desolation, loss, and horror at what they had witnessed. For once he was not an outcast. Everyone on this ship faced similar losses and similar horrors.
Yet, he still felt like an outcast. He knew everyone on this ship would hate the Necromancers. They would hate any form of undead. Sheut, however, would try to find a way to revive Apophis. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of being an outcast among outcasts, which got him plenty of dirty looks and strange glances. After all, who but a mad man would laugh after witnessing a city burned to the ground, the people slaughtered mercilessly by beings of complete evil.