Anders sat up on bed, folding his knees to his chest. He glanced down at Garrett who was still fast asleep. He gently touched his face and brushed back his dark hair. His fingers gingerly remained on the side of his face.
He could hear the voices again. Better yet, the voice. Hollow, loud, and haunting.
The voice of Justice.
He was demanding to him, still demanding the same thing they've both been fighting for.
Do something, he was whispering. Something must be done, and only you can do it.
Anders leaned back on the headboard, shivering. He remained still for a few moments before he got off the bed and left the room in his nightshirt and crumpled trousers. He crossed his arms as a cloud passed by, cloaking him in the shadows.
The war is coming. He knew it was coming, and it was only a matter of time. Everyone was merely holding back the inevitable. People will continue to die.
Something must be done.
And only he can do it.
The cloud drifted away and the moonlight returned. Anders turned and slipped back into the bedroom.
Something must be done.
And only he has the will to do it.