The air was still.
Ash fell from the gray skies, settling gently on the two figures amidst the battlefield ruins.
Blood, rain, and smoke mingled into one indistinguishable scent being the stench of war.
Draven stood, chest heaving, his blade still trembling in his hand.
Across him, Noah knelt in the mud, his white uniform drenched crimson.
His face was unreadable... void of anger, fear, or even pain.
Just... emptiness.
The silence between them was deafening.
"Why… why did you do it?"
Draven's voice cracked, hoarse from screaming and exhaustion.
Noah looked up at Draven.
His lips twitched.
"Just kill me already..."
Draven's eyes widened before driving the blade forward.
Steel tore through flesh the sound unmistakable.
Noah's body jerked as the blade pierced his chest.
A wet cough escaped his lips, blood spilling from his mouth as his head slumped forward.
The blade trembled again, but this time, not from Draven's grip from Noah's heartbeat fading against its edge.
