7
Soren groaned as he crawled his way back from the pit of unconsciousness. His body ached in a way it hadn’t in millennia. Each muscle protested as he struggled to get up from the floor.
What the f**k had happened? He wiped his mouth to stop whatever was dripping from his chin and nose. His hand came away smeared with blood.
Shattered pieces of ceramics, glass, and plaster dust coated the floor, stabbing his legs and feet as he got to his hands and knees. He glanced up and realized he wasn’t alone. His twin, Sef, leaned against the open doorway, watching him. A flash of memories raced through him. His brother had kicked his ass.
“You okay?” Sef asked quietly.
“Yes.” Soren struggled to his feet. “You were always the stronger fighter.”
“And you the better strategist. It’s why I never
