Light rippled ahead of the fleeing elders.
Zevon materialized out of that shimmer, calm as dusk, blocking the narrow gorge they had hoped to escape through.
Terror froze the group. One elder, voice shaking, managed, "S-Sir, w-we only followed orders. Please, spare us..."
Zevon's eyes hardened to ice. "Did you ever spare a soul when it was your turn to strike? Today, you pay the price for every drop of blood you spilled."
As soon as Zevon finished his sentence, his hands blurred through a storm of hand seals.
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