"Why?"
"Someone help him!"
"Seize the murderer!"
Hissing… shouts… clanging weapons…
Garsiv lying prone on the ground, breastplate pierced with spikes, eyes glassy, lips wetted with blood.
Tus turning to face Nizam only to have his throat slit from ear to ear. Falling lifeless to the ground.
Sharaman stands, face burnt an acrid black, sneer twisting his face- "This is your doing boy! You have killed me! I should have left you in the gutter to rot!"
Garsiv rises with hate filled eyes- "Look what you've done! We never should have trusted you! Once a gutter-snipe, always a gutter-snipe!"
Tus turns to face him- "Did you really think I could ever believe you! You- the brat that can't even follow orders! If only father had never found you none of this would have ever happened!"
"Murderer!"
"Gutter-rat!"
" Traitor!"
"Whore-son!"
"Filth!"
"No…Father!... it wasn't me…I swear it… PLEASE!" Dastan shoots up from his bed with a gasp upon his lips. Fine trembles wreck his frame as the young persian prince gulps at the air as if drowning. By the light of the moon, a single trace of silver trails down to fall upon the sheets.