It had been barely a few hours since the attack in the Archive.
Lucian couldn't stay still, he walked from one side to the other while Raziel watched from the stretcher, feeling the phantom echo of the killer's hand on his neck.
"Those threads..." Lucian murmured, stopping suddenly.
"I mean, cutting a head that clean, he must be Sword Master level."
Raziel arched an eyebrow. "Do you still think he is cool?"
The childish excitement on Lucian's face broke, replaced by genuine terror.
"The power is cool, but the guy... no." He slumped into a chair, running his hands through his hair.
"Did you see how he looked at us later? He smiled like a kid who just pulled the wings off a fly. That Arawn guy is a psychopath, Raz, and now he knows who we are."
Raziel nodded slowly. "He is a weapon of the Inquisition. He isn't here to make friends."
"Exactly! And we have this!" Lucian took out Sister Elena's leather diary, the one they had taken days ago. Now it looked like a cursed artifact.
