Silence has always been a companion. It is something has always brought me comfort, confidence, and strength. Now... Now, these damp, cold walls and dim lighting filled me with restlessness. It had only been a few days since returning from Keribas where the other Sanctum heads made it painfully apparent that my leadership is not only questioned here in Slavar, but around the other Sanctums. Were it not for Scarlet, I doubt these neanderthals would have opened the gates for my return. Head hung low from the edge of my bed, I turned my attention to the battered cloak and armor hanging on the mannequin by my desk. I moved my shoulder to check for stiffness - much improved since I arrived. The events overseas left me more battered and bruised than anything on Althanas. A learning experience to be sure. The few days of rest had returned my vigor save for a few noteworthy aches.

I lifted myself off the bed. As I walked to the mirror at my desk, surrounded by neglected notes and half-finished alchemy projects, I noticed a small missive out of place. I lifted the parchment and scanned the contents. A letter written in Scarlet's handwriting. The contents weren't meant for my eyes but were written to me. Questions, anger, discontent. I owed her plenty for her work during my leave but the last few lines made me straighten my posture.

"They don't respect you anymore. They don't fear you anymore. You've lost the Hand. Advencia is now my..."

I stopped reading and set the letter down to see the man in the reflection across from me. Hair long and knotted, circles under green eyes darker than the bruises on my chest, and a myriad of scars filled with the knowledge of my failures. Pathetic. I've known for a long time I don't fit the mold of a leader. These hands are all that's needed to carve the necessary path. I creased my lips into a grin.

"They're deluded," slipped out as I looked at my palms.

Too many brainless idiots made their way into these walls. Too many sheep and a pen built to keep them contained. None of them pose a threat to me, not a one, but as these selfish bastards stand shoulder to shoulder, they feel more confident. I don't know if they simply fear Scarlet more than me or respect her. It doesn't matter. The herd has grown too large.

I looked up and grabbed a small stiletto usually purposed for letters. I took all I could of that knotted, pale hair into my fist and severed it in one clean sweep of the blade. The weight lifted literally from my head and fell to the floor. I looked younger, already feeling more like myself. With a dull thud, I buried the blade into the letter just along the line of "You've lost the Hand."

I'm going to make the most of this night, I thought as I began to strap into my armor. If I've lost the Hand, then it doesn't need to exist anymore.