Chapter 22. Peace or Pieces

JULIAN

The night had stretched on, edging toward the timeless halls of forevermore. As I stood in a tent with my hands tied to a heavy wooden log, all I could pray for was for morning to come.

The sounds I heard echoing from outside the tent were not encouraging. I could recognize violence even from a million miles away. This was it, or even worse. The sound of clanging swords, cheering, yelling, and cries of pain took my mind back to my traumatic past.

Hours ago, Zik and I were dragged into this empty tent just after we finished eating, and kept standing as if waiting for something to happen as cheering and jeering rose outside. Although we could not see what was happening outside, we had a considerable idea of what it was.

Zik had passed me that gaze, his brown eyes telling the whole story, testifying to his years of battle experience and what he was expecting. So, by the time several guards came in and took him away, I was not surprised, neither was he, ju