“And when you become red-stained, too familiar with pain—too reliant on the Scythe to put it down? I wonder then, Brutus, who will protect Blunder from you?” My hand dropped to the hilt of my sword upon my belt. “I care not that you are my sister’s husband. Kill another soul with my Scythe, and I will not merely take it back. I will pry it from your lifeless hands. Now get out.”
