Orishadaon: to the Ends of the Urth
Alive Out of Habit
“I can’t believe they’re dead,” Dayn muttered, stumbling over the reptilian corpse of an annaru as he stared blankly at the bodies lying amongst the muddy undergrowth. He blinked in disbelief and tightened his grip on Agidyne, the blood-soaked blade in his trembling hand.
The shadow of a large winged beast passed overhead, drawing his attention. It soared just above the canopy of rustling leaves, opening its beak to emit a mournful shriek that echoed hauntingly through the humid air.
“I can’t believe we aren’t,” Ryl remarked, startling Dayn from his reverie. “Are ya alright?” he asked anxiously.
Dayn waved off his concern. “I . . . I killed it.” Preserve life, never take it, that was his oath. He surveyed the carnage in horror, ashamed of what he had done. “Where is she? What happened to Alis?”
Ryl looked away when Dayn met his gaze. The b