Izus Torossian walked through the empty streets, with a bundle in his arms. The raw sound of a baby crying battered at the air.
The dark things – the once-men stayed far away from him, he strode across the wet cobblestones unopposed.
Izus wished something would attack. Something he could fight.
The inside of him felt wide and vast, as if he had stumbled through a door in his house and discovered a vast concert hall; the orchestra tuning their instruments and waiting for the maestro’s baton.
He was smarter, faster, more. He was more.
Izus looked down at last to the crying child in his arms. The rain had slowed, but a few drops still fell on the babe’s unprotected face. He pulled the edge of his cloak up, and covered her carefully.
“Shhhh, little one. Everything’s going to be okay.”
The child stopped crying at the sound of his voice, and dropped off into an uneasy sleep — rocked by the motion of his strides.
“Everything’s going to be okay.” he said again, and found no comfort in the words.