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his father's belongings were packed as his own were. But Lodin's things had still been stored away in the hut when he had last been there. Which meant...
    Luca glared at my father. “You have been packing while these people were being slaughtered?”
    Lodin blinked, his eyes filled with deep regret. It was the same look he had whenever Luca asked about his mother, or what it was that they were running from.
    “Son - sometimes you have to give things up,” Lodin said quietly.
    “You gave up awfully quickly,” Luca spat. “You were a better hunter than any of these people! A better fighter! How many of these people could have been spared if you would have defended them?!”
    “Luca, don't be a fool!” Lodin urged. “We can't fight these men! These are Acarian soldiers!”
    “Perhaps you can't. But I won't let these people die in vain. I won't let Arlea's death be meaningless. You can run. I'm going to take out every one of these bastards!”
    “You don't understand, son - their leader-”
    Lodin stopped, his eyes growing wide like he had just seen a ghost.
    From the white haze, a black figure emerged. A tall man with a handsome face of indeterminate age, He wore the same red-trimmed black armour as the soldiers, but lacked the helmet. The man's right eye was covered by a patch, and his left glowed a deep red. His hair was black and shoulder-length, with a single strand by his left ear braided.
    Lodin gasped. “Zinoro...”
    The man called Zinoro stared at Lodin expressionlessly.
    “Hello, Lodin,” he said in a cold, low voice. “It has been some time since we last met.”
    “Your face...! After all these years...”
    “Yes,” Zinoro said, his single red eye gleaming. “Some things have changed, but some things have not. You certainly carry the weight of your years.”
    Lodin said nothing. There was a great sorrow in his eyes - a kind of resignation Luca had never seen in his father. Lodin had often been sombre, but never weary. Now, he suddenly looked many years older.
    Luca stepped up to his father's side.
    “You're their leader,” he said. It wasn't a question, but a statement that expected an answer. “You're the one responsible for all this!”
    Zinoro gave him a brief glance with his single eye, then returned his gaze to Lodin.
    “Your son has grown since we last crossed paths. It must be nice, for a father to see his son's childhood, hmm?”
    Lodin's mouth tightened.
    “In that case, I find it fitting that he should be forced to watch his father die,” Zinoro said. “Draw your sword, Lodin. You have run from me long enough.”
    Lodin hesitated.
    “I've found you,” Zinoro said. “You know there's no escaping this time.”
    Finally, Lodin tossed his bag aside and slowly slid his sword from its sheath. He gave the blade a long glance, as if saying goodbye to the weapon.
    “Siora...” he muttered so quietly it was almost lost to the wind.
    Lodin then tossed the sword aside into the snow.
    Zinoro's face twisted in rage. “What is the meaning of this?! Pick up your sword, you coward!”
    Lodin shook his head.
    “I will not kill you Zinoro,” he said sombrely. “I will not even raise a hand to defend myself. If you wish to end me, you will have to do so in cold blood. I will not allow you the comfort of a quick kill in the heat of battle.”
    Zinoro spat at the ground.
    “You would insult me after all these years?” Zinoro turned to Luca, and addressed him for the first time. “Look, boy, at the man your father is. To spend fifteen years fleeing from his enemy, only to insult him when they do at last meet? A spineless fool.”
    Luca turned from his father to glare at the armoured man. He didn't understand much of what they spoke of, but he would not abide by this man insulting his father. His short sword was drawn in a second, and he charged at Zinoro.
    The armoured Acarian turned his head ever so slightly, and he frowned. He was clearly not threatened by his charge, but merely annoyed. He