Beads of crimson hung suspended in the air. His threads warped, as if manipulated by an outside force. Atrius. The two of them tangled again. Tarkan was off-balance, startled. The next strike had him reeling. Atrius could have finished him then. I saw the opening. I knew he did, too. But yet, Atrius held him for a moment. Shot me a glance over Tarkan’s shoulder. And he nodded at me. The understanding snapped into place. He was presenting Tarkan to me. He was giving me this. I didn’t know why. I didn’t have time to question it.
