Sylas looked down at Sarethvane.
There wasn't much left to look at. Sarethvane lay sprawled across the wreckage of his own coffins, the stone split and scattered around him, black Will bleeding off his frame in threads that ended in shattered edges. The irony was that his injuries weren't even caused by Sylas. Sylas hadn't landed a single hit. If anything, Sylas had saved him in the end.
It was Sarethvane's own arrogance that caused him to compress his body like he had.
But even so, Sylas didn't move to claim him either.
There was a difference between a Serpentes who had been beaten and a Serpentes who had been broken, and the second one was worth nothing to him at all.
He was looking for a method to break free of the system, to shatter the ceiling. He didn't need contracts who were vacant shells of their former selves after a loss.
