None of Asvaldur's knights or the magic wielders from the inn lived to see the next day. The same fate befell those in the second inn Florian visited. And the third. And the fourth.
By the time he fully grasped what he had done—by his own hands, in full awareness—he had wiped out every knight and magic wielder permitted to enter Eira.
He stood trembling, staring at his bloodstained palms. His legs felt numb, his mind floating, drifting.
Then came the voice.
"You did this."
It slithered through his thoughts, growing fuller, heavier, until Ol'gaz took shape before him—another Florian, a wicked imposter. He stepped closer, his fingers gliding over Florian's face, almost tenderly.
"I didn't tell you to. I had no part in it. It was all you."
Florian had no defense. Ol'gaz was right. The weight of it all rested squarely on his shoulders.
"You've become me."
