The vestiges of blood clung to Xiao’s gloves, the crimson indistinguishable from the dark fabric. He stands before you; a fellow adeptus, albeit weak and fatally wounded.

You had grown so accustomed to the pain inflicted upon you by the villagers, their movements fluid as they penetrated your skin with sharp blades, that you failed to notice Xiao’s presence. Rain and tears alike rolled down your pale cheeks.

“… It’s alright,” Xiao murmurs, settled to his knees as he took in your state.