Xenith tied Milika to a poll outside the trade center, not wanting to leave her with the 'buggy'. She winced slightly as he pulled to knot tight, pulling sharply at the skin on her wrists, but he didn't notice. He tied her ankles, too, to a small loop on the ground. He had to ensure that she couldn't sit, suspended by her wrists with her legs behind her, tied like some prisoner.

As Xenith turned to leave, Milika summoned up the courage to ask him a question in a weak voice, barely above a whisper. "What will happen now?" She did not look at him when she said this, but at the stone cold ground beneath her. Xenith stopped and turned abrubtly. "Who said you could speak, wetch?" Milika felt the sharp blow to her stomach, and heaved out a blood-spattered breath. "You won't get to know your future, it is not a right you have. All you can know, is it will surely be dismal." He laughed an cruel laughter before punching her hard in the chest, and walking away into the trading center.

Milika wept softly, her tears mixing with the blood that trickled out of her mouth and nose and dripping into the red puddle beneath her.

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Death Cannot Kill What Never Dies, Nor Can Souls Ever Be Divided.