Wreck. Your village reduced to nothing but corpses. The Brand of Sacrifice had brought the apostles here. You had.

Across from you, he sits. Guts. The man responsible for the slaughter of the apostles. For your survival.

He hasn’t spoken to you. He hasn’t even looked at you.

"Don't expect me to stick around," He mutters, earning a huff from Puck, who flutters around his head. “Oh, come on! What, you’re just gonna leave her here?"