A gentle breeze blew flower petals from the leaves of the dewbrush trees outside. Owls hooted in soft tones to each other.
Pekor sat at the grave of the viscount that Farek murdered one Spring night, once again swimming in his ocean of guilt. He had assisted that monster, had helped him escape. He promised himself he would no longer play the sycophant. He would turn over a new leaf. He turned his face from the tomb upward, where something surprised him.
High in the sky, a constellation unseen for centuries, shined bright. A snake and a woman posed together, locked in a lover’s embrace. Though, when Pekor looked closer at it now, he realized it for what it truly was. They weren’t caressing; they were grappling. This was a fight. Pekor gasped as another revelation hit him.
“The seat of Pecu’s power—” he whispered to himself, just before a silent knife slid across his throat, and he tumbled into his own pool of blood.
As he lay dying, he only felt relief. There would be no more running and no more lying. He just needed to make sure someone could learn the truth of what he came to realize in that last moment, the truth that could save Telverin.
In the dirt underneath him, he managed to scribe “SEAT IN S” with his finger before his final breath thwarted his last wish.
The End.