Edwin brushed the ashes of one Fernand Polites off himself and got up. The sun was on the horizon now, but he didn't feel like he was burning. There was a certain hunger inside him that demanded blood. A hunger brought about from the change in who he was.
What he was.
He got up slowly and moved towards the exit of the tourney grounds. How was he going to explain to Hadrian that he had killed his brother? A deranged giggle escaped his lips. Guess there was a boiling point even for calm Edwin Roberts.
Now what? If he went home, he might tear a hole into Daniel, and wouldn't that undo all the care he had put into the ungrateful ass? He shook his head. It was childish to be pissed off about words when he had just killed someone.
Someone who had it coming, but still. He had felt none of the satisfaction he had felt from Fredrick's screams, but there was some dark amusement inside him that threatened to consume him.
To reshape him.