The Rat quickly ripped his hand back, accelerating back before he came to a slow stop. He barely realized that he was surrounded by an odd darkness illuminated only by the road he stood on.
Sylas, though, stood in the same spot without moving. He didn't seem to care much about following after the Rat.
Standing in silence, he watched the Rat as though he was observing an ant squirm.
"What did you do?" The Rat's head snapped toward Sylas, much of his visage still covered by his hood. But his eyes… they were clear and looked like pools of endless blood. "Where is this?"
Sylas didn't answer. If he didn't need to talk, he certainly wouldn't—not to the likes of this person.
Instead, he raised a finger.
Danger warnings pulsed in the Rat's mind, but it was already too late.
The sound of a slap echoed through the darkness. The Rat spun like a spinning top, his hood falling from his head.
