The Last Glimmer of Moonlight Before Dawn

There were always things in this world that made you bleed when you least expected them, blood pouring forth without ever healing. Even many years later, they still ached faintly.

Kaul Sahora raised a hand and placed it on the table, the gauntlet reflecting the candlelight. His body was slightly bent, as though he might rise at any moment. The white-clothed dining table still waited for the guest of honor at this dinner, leaving a patch of emptiness.

Kaul stared blankly at that pure white space. He neither moved nor spoke, yet voices filled the air around him.

The Night Lords who did not care for alcohol had chosen water or a mildly sweet fruit juice instead. Others traded toasts, their silver goblets swaying as rich wine, crimson as blood, gave off its fragrance. One story after another was told amid this atmosphere.

Their tones varied, but they could all be categorized as gentle or quiet. The voices blended together like waves striking cliffs at midnight, rising and falling within the stillness.

Clearly, Kaul was not accustomed to occasions like this.

It could not be called dislike, nor did he seem unable to fit in. If one absolutely had to describe it, then aside from asking him directly for an answer, the only option would be the foolish method of poring over a dictionary for hours. Or perhaps coining a new word specifically for his current state of mind, then never mentioning it again.

"That old problem acting up again?" Shekher Cold Soul, seated beside him, asked.

The Supreme Grand Master of the Blade of Judgement seemed to know some secret. His current expression lay somewhere between intriguingly knowing and looking for a bit of amusement.

The Shadow Knight glanced at him and retorted, each word stiff and forced, "I