They stood there. One before the other.
Valentius hated having to do this. Hated the fact that Albert had to face his own fate.
But what could he do? Their lives were at risk.
Albert was still behaving as if that were not the case.
It was as if they could snap their fingers, and Wrath would drop dead.
"Albert," Valentius looked at the boy's neck, where there were once bite marks.
Bite marks, Valentius didn't want to think about, but was forced to.
Albert wasn't moving on. Albert was still stuck in the past. A past so grim that Valentius knew that had he had it, he would have jumped into murky waters.
"What?" The boy snapped. He stepped towards Valentius, only to see the boy slowly reaching out to him.
Opening his arms and looking him in the eyes.
"I can't help you if you don't trust me," Valentius whispered. He knew that even if Albert trusted him, he might still be unable to help.
Albert had died. Albert had suffered.
