I relive the events that played out on the parapet, my eyes fixed on the stone beneath my feet as I recall the maniacal laughter of Jack Barlowe, his sickening grin, and the malice in his eyes. The memory of his words still sends shivers down my spine: "You're dead, Sorrengail, and I'm going to be the one to kill you." I can almost feel the rain-soaked air as I rushed to the courtyard, my heart pounding in my chest.
The sound of thunder still echoes in my mind as I think back to the words of the female rider, her voice as calm as ever as she asked Jack, "Well, Jack, Cadet Sorrengail has you by the actual balls here, in more ways than one." The tone was bland, but I knew she was warning him without seeming to.
I remember the way Jack's face reddened with rage as he glared down at me, his eyes blazing with a hunger for violence. The way the rain dripped off the edge of his brow, and the way his fingers clenched into fists. He was a ticking time bomb, primed to explode.
And yet, I stood my ground, my hand still wrapped around the hilt of my dagger, ready to defend myself at a moment's notice. I knew that even if I managed to survive this encounter, the scars of this day would linger long after I left this place.
