Kyrian raised a finger toward the young man.
"If you are prepared to kill." He said, his voice low and calm.
"You should also be prepared to die."
Lightning began to gather at the tip of his finger again. Violet light filled the hillside, illuminating the young man's pale, sweaty face.
The young man's face twisted.
It was no longer fear. It was something beyond fear, a deep, primal panic that distorted his features into a mask of terror. He knew he would not be able to block that attack. His barrier was broken. His guardian was dead. His mount was dead.
He was alone.
"THIS WILL NOT END LIKE THIS!" he screamed, his voice hoarse from shouting so much.
"I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU! YOU WILL DIE! YOU WILL DIE BY MY HANDS!"
Kyrian fired.
The beam of violet light left his finger at the same instant, slicing through the air toward the young man's heart.
But, at the exact moment of impact, something happened.
