Jolthar's breathing slowed, but his fury burned hotter. The word bastard echoed in his mind, a festering wound reopened. It had followed him his entire life, whispered in the halls of nobility, spat in the shadows of the clan, and used as a chain to drag him down.
And yet, he was still here.
His blade trembled, not from hesitation but from the sheer force of the chaos curling around it, reacting to his emotions. Lodawg thought this would break him. That he would lose himself to the rage, and the chaos would devour him from within.
But he was wrong.
He had no intention of breaking.
Jolthar's gaze locked onto Lodawg, cold and sharp as a predator's. His voice came out as a low growl, steady but laced with a venomous sneer. "Stop barking."
Lodawg chuckled, unfazed. "So much hostility. You sound just like the mutt they raised you to be." He spread his arms mockingly. "Come, then. Let the chaos take you. Or will you prove just how weak your blood truly is?"
