His eyes trace over the image for several more seconds before he tucks it into his pocket and nods his head, closing his eyes tightly. When he opens them up again, a clarity I haven’t seen in years fills them. For a moment, if you didn’t know better, you’d almost think Zayden was normal. He’s calm, composed, and not a ticking time bomb eager to go off at the slightest inconvenience, just for a taste of blood.
