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Summary
At many points Illuga had convinced himself that if anyone on this earth was invincible, besides the gods, it was Flins. Flins, who never shied from danger. Flins, who was always so confident, and always correct, when he said there was no danger. Flins, who, by all accounts, was a soul old enough to rival the existence of Nod-Krai itself.
Flins, whose broken body and shattered lantern now lay in a puddle of blood, fresh and seeping, steam rising from it where it met the frigid night air.
Illuga's eyes snapped open.