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SQUIRREL and Tristan were sitting in brother Salt's kitchen, ready to be tortured. Ready to be killed. Ready to die in the most painful way they could think of.
"Shall we play now?" Brother Salt told Squirrel.
"You're the ugliest of them all. Inside and out. Kill me, fine. But you'll still be you forever. That's a worse hell than anything I can think of!"
"The toungue first, I think."
"Don't. Touch. Him." said Tristan, full of anger. He wanted to kill him, he wanted to kill them all. Tristan wanted the paladins to suffer as he suffered when he found his home destroyed and his family killed.
"Go on! Take it! I'll still keep talking." Squirrel has always been brave and sassy, he gets even more daring in front of danger. "I'll be in your nightmares talking, telling you how ugly you are. When you try and wake up, your eyes won't open 'cause you sewed them up like a bloody idiot!" he yelled.
Brother Salt was coming closer to him, but the curtain opened, revealing The Weeping Monk and a tall, feminine figure behind.
" Come to watch, my weeping brother?" instead of watching, the Weeping Monk pulled out a blade, slitting Salt's neck.
Guinevere rushed to her brother and Squirrel. She cut the ropes with a dagger the monk gave her.
"Guinevere!" she just smiled at them and turned to the Weeping Monk, giving him a soft smile as well. He saved them. There is good in him. She was right, he had a personal struggle. Maybe he finally saw the true light.
"Come quick."
They were all following the Monk, God knows where. He proved himself a friend, he proved himself thier saviour. He can be trusted, right?
"What an unlikely pair." said a stranger, surrounded by different men dressed in black, their faces covered by masks. "The Weeping Monk and the only descendant of the first Shadow Lord. Forbidden love, is it? How romantic."
