"You can't save a world by building on the torture of others," Solomon murmured, but he knew it was already too late. Craven's anthill had begun to settle. Certainty. The belief in understanding. He thought he knew it, and he was so very wrong.
"I'd tell anyone who asks," he said simply, tiredly, and shifted back to his side to relax into his bed with a sigh. "Tenebrae wasn't asking the right questions. You can tell him, if you like. Of course, he'll hear it anyway, I imagine, just as soon as he watches the footage from the camera someone no doubt installed."
He was prepared to ignore Craven and get some sleep until Saint Gabriel arrived when he felt a ... a whisper. Not a pulse, not anything dramatic--more like a quiet wash of surf. A sigh, as if every soul in the graveyard, for just an instant, had felt genuine relief. Not enough for any Necromancer to notice the difference--but an eternity in the lifestream.
Solomon's breath caught and even though he couldn't see it, he felt the relieved smile the spread across his face. "Have you any more questions for me, Vandameer? I won't be here much longer."
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"I'd tell anyone who asks," he said simply, tiredly, and shifted back to his side to relax into his bed with a sigh. "Tenebrae wasn't asking the right questions. You can tell him, if you like. Of course, he'll hear it anyway, I imagine, just as soon as he watches the footage from the camera someone no doubt installed."
He was prepared to ignore Craven and get some sleep until Saint Gabriel arrived when he felt a ... a whisper. Not a pulse, not anything dramatic--more like a quiet wash of surf. A sigh, as if every soul in the graveyard, for just an instant, had felt genuine relief. Not enough for any Necromancer to notice the difference--but an eternity in the lifestream.
Solomon's breath caught and even though he couldn't see it, he felt the relieved smile the spread across his face. "Have you any more questions for me, Vandameer? I won't be here much longer."