But he didn't answer. He launched forward again, jaw snapping inches from my throat. I threw him off with everything I had, and we both tumbled across the floor, landing in a crouch.
Blood—his and mine—dotted the ground between us.
"I trusted you," he snarled, voice hoarse. "You left us! You left me!"
"I didn't have a choice!" I snapped. "You don't know what really happened!" I was trying to play along while I figured out what exactly was wrong with him.
"You ran!" he barked, shaking with rage. "You disappeared without a word, and now you come back and expect everything to be the same?"
I was panting now, chest heaving, arms trembling from the weight of the fight and the words. "That's not what happened. I came back because I had to—because I still care."
Then I saw it—an ethereal thread wrapped around his chest, tied to a floating sigil pulsing above the altar.
That must be the reason he's acting weird.
