The akar who named himself as Ji’sura took the blade and imbedded its end to his neck again, deeper this time. His one good eye was wider and more alive than it ever was during our bout. It went ablaze with the last vestige of his ignited soul. What fanaticism, what veneration stared back at me in his moment of truth. There was no hesitation in his final moment. Ji’sura’s fist bled across the blade as his quivering hand pulled the steel across his throat and opened an even greater gash. I gasped and shuddered as if his soul had left through my lips.
