The Zorvan general's lifeless eyes stared at the scene in silence.
All around him was devastation. Shattered buildings, flaming debris from fallen warships. Dead, lifeless remains of Zorvans he had once called comrades.
His eyes stopped at a section of the camp, far, far away from where he stood. There lay severed remains, Zorvans smaller than all the others in the area.
New recruits. Children. All dead.
The general clenched his three fingered fists so hard the air around him trembled. He turned towards the human whose presence dwarfed anything he had ever faced.
"Why?" he muttered under his breath.
There was no answer.
Atticus wasn't even looking at him. His gaze was scanning the area, as though searching for something.
The Zorvan's expression shifted and his anger flared.
"WHY DID YOU DO ALL OF THIS!?" he thundered.
Atticus paused. He finally turned, raising a brow.
Had he heard that correctly?
