Holding his chest in agony, Asher stared at the shattered pieces of glass on the floor with a perplexed expression.
"What was that?? Something terrible is about to happen... I can feel it more and more."
His eyes narrowed as they drifted across the room before landing on Harlan's quiet figure.
The young man had followed him back and now stood at the side in silence, watching carefully.
"He is going to be alright. Have faith in him. It's Xavier we're talking about, not some ordinary fellow," Harlan finally spoke, though his words did little to ease Asher's worry.
"Even the powerful die, so what says the same won't happen to Xavier? What if I lose him?"
Asher didn't know why he was feeling so paranoid, but the realization that Xavier had gone out for war made his throat tighten.
Was this how women in those ancient times felt whenever their husbands marched into battle?
Was this the fear they swallowed every single day?
