“Where is Vel/ris.” I ignored our overlapping voices as we faced down Quenloc and Bargrl who were currently curled on the ground as the brat was trying to hide behind his daughter while she was trying to push him in front of herself.

          There was a lot of blood in the air, not all of it his. There were so many things that could have gone wrong. I can’t reattach limbs. I can’t revive the living. All I know is what I’ve memorized. Even if it just requires a new mix of medicine, I won’t know how.

          Why am I only thinking of what I can’t do?

          “He’s fine, the rest of the medics less so, but young Velris was relatively unharmed.” Aena’s brat of a general gave us a strained smile with a twitching eye.

          Boney herself had ignored them after asking and blasted through the door. I leaned and peered over the carnage to see what was inside.

          Velris was wrapped carefully in a few layers of blankets and she was hugging him while patting his head. I could hear a round of interrogation start as she rattled off questions without giving him room to answer.

          “He has a minor burn on his arm and an unrelated bloody nose.” Lyciel quietly smirked as he looked at the coddled brat that was being strangled, but he quickly plastered his smile back on.

          “What happened?” I glanced at the girl, debating how much trouble it would be to make good on my earlier threat.

          “…Well, there was a stray fireball…” Lyciel followed my gaze to look at the one who was probably the closest to the incident.

          “So, the fireball head right towards Vel-Vel, right? So, we-everyone who knew his connection to you two, so we all make a swan dive.” She made a little dive motion, adjusting her weight enough that Quenloc lost his balance and rolled forward a little.     

          “Well, thing may have gotten a little out of hand…” Quenloc grinned up at me nervously like the time I found him downing the poisoned wine I had saved specifically to give to the old monster for his newest brat, the current Lord. It took me weeks to get it out of his system and I was half a mind to let it kill him.

          That was actually what happened to my mansion. I had to give it to an actual doctor to save that brat. An action I regret, even if the brat did save my life.

          “Explain.”

          “Well, so, when I said everyone, I may have meant everyone…” She muttered from behind her father’s legs that she had propped up for a shield as he played dead. “So, the kid kinda got buried,” I glared, “Briefly, very briefly! But well, poor Vel-Vel’s arm kinda got missed and got a little singed.”

          “And the nosebleed?”

          “Three did that.” A certain father blithely tossed out a sacrifice.

          “That cannot be blamed on me! I was the first to shield him! I didn’t even hit him hard enough! I don’t know how he got  hurt!”

          “He wasn’t hurt.” Lyciel coughed into his hand, his smile straining as he suppressed it.

          “Look at her clothes.” The father wasn’t ready to abandon her entirely it seemed. Her shirt was dark so it was hard to tell, but there was a darker spot by her chest.

          “Ah.” I relaxed slightly.

          “Yep.” Quenloc shrugged from his position on the ground.

          “Youth.” Lyciel sighed, still trying to keep his neutral fake smile from shifting back to a smirk. “Would you mind keeping our General from burning the place down?”

          “Maybe.” Bargrl was still peering at me from behind her shield. Her eyes were large and she was tearing up a bit, trying to make herself look more pitiful.

          The boy wasn’t really hurt. Not badly. Mere scraps that would heal in days even without treatment. Even from here I could hear her settling down. Relief in her voice as she started to scold him for scaring her.

          Distantly. It all felt so distant. He wasn’t hurt. Not really. He is Fine.

          So why, why do I feel like tearing them all apart? Especially the girl who was supposed to protect him. Especially the brats that threw the fireball.

          Well, it has to start somewhere.

          The girl blinked, starting to get confused. She pulled on Quenloc, who tilted his head to look at me.

          “Bargrl, run.” So, he thought of her as his daughter after all. He was on his feet and standing with all the ferocity of a mother bear between me and the brat.

          “Dad?”

          “Run.” Quenloc tried to push her without taking his eyes off me, but he was still naive.

          I felt myself smile, though I wasn’t particularly in the mood. The angel General started to move to help block. Pity, they were both…so slow.

          You know, I kind of lied to Boney when I said I didn’t have any other hobbies. I say kind of, because it was originally more of an obsession than a hobby.

          Eyes. They were fun to collect, and fun to look at. After a while though, when I had one from every race, basically every color, and had seen so many, it lost its appeal.

          It’d been so long, none of my collection remained. At least, that I know of. Some brat might have made off with a jar or two. But I still had several of the jars, though it would be more appropriate to call them sealed clear vases.

          I was behind him before he had time to react. I held his daughter’s face with one hand with my other resting around the hollow of the socket for her eye. All I had to do was push.

          Bargrl was still confused, no fear in her eyes. They were a clear purple, a sign that somewhere in her ancestry was the old monster. It was a common color, he got around. Still, they would do.

          Searing pain tore up my arm as a smaller hand gripped my wrist. I frowned as I tried to free it, letting go of the girl to do so.

          Gold eyes burned into mine.

          Even with my wrist feeling like it was getting waterboarded with lava, I felt cold. For an absurd moment, I even wanted to run.

          I could handle her being mad, or angry. But what was in her eyes wasn’t either.

          All I could see in her eyes... was hatred.