Things ruffle and rattle as Zevran digs into the pile and Isaac glances away, muscles in his shoulders knotted and eyes hooded and lips defiantly pressed thin. It’s Abel’s turn now to demand obedience through sheer force of its presence with all five of its glowering eyes turned on the elf and claws ready to snatch him by the arm and haul him onto his feet if it must. But it doesn’t come to that. Nor does the dagger attempt to find its way into the devil’s hide.

Zevran passes him and keeps going, Abel trailing like a shadow. And then, for just a short, blessed moment, all is silent.

You let him go, a voice murmurs in the darkness. You should have strangled him.

Isaac pulls in a slow breath. He lets his eyes fall shut.

He has made you weak, it continues. You grieved for him, and he mocks you. He wants you to unburden him of guilt so he no longer has to think about you and he can enjoy his life. Now he’ll go home to those he loves and they will hold him close in the way you used to. He’ll tell them what you did and you know what will happen.

The line of his jaw sharpens, nails sinking deep enough into his arm to draw a dotted line of blood.

But they’ve been waiting for a reason to turn on you. Let them fear you, Isaac. Let them curse your name.

"Let them hate," Isaac says into the emptiness, and no one answers.