Black clouds, like a pack of starving Wolvers, devoured every last ray of light in the night sky until all of Haven was just as black. Snipes curled against the shoulders of Strangers, tightly closing their eyes. The clink of metal dully echoed through the mist from outside the town walls. A knight was sprinting across the land bridge leading to the main entrance of Haven. His hood flopped up and down, his gun rattled in its holster, and his shield swished back and forth clanking against metal buckles. With every footfall, pain flared up his leg; every breath was a Striker to the lungs.

One foot lunged out to meet the first step in to Haven. It hit the ground, triggering a bullet of agony which shattered through his kneecap. The knight’s jaw smacked the frozen stone upon the tumble and blood gushed from his lip as he laid there. With a last inkling of strength, he propped himself up enough to see that he was too late; the barricades had already been put up. His shivering arms gave out and he curled up, tightly wrapping his arms around himself.

The dwindling adrenaline left behind a sinking pit in his chest. The night’s chill washed over and seeped through the raggedy armor like a Shivermist haze, frosting over his very bones. His eyelids slowly drew over the sparks of his eyes as he savored the warmth of the blood pooling against his cheek. It felt so soft…hm?

He reached his hand up toward his face and placed it next to his cheek. A bundle of soft, warm fur filled his palm. A pair of glimmering blue eyes greeted his drooping yellow ones and the little feline mewed at him, snuggling closer. He gave a weak smile and wrapped his hand around it. Those eyes, they were such a familiar color.

He stroked the Seraphynx while it purred, running his fingers from the top of its head down its neck. He noticed a collar. It read: “If found, please return to ___.” His eyebrows furrowed. It was a standard heat-powered collar issued at Battle Sprite selection. It should have shown the owner’s name and their coordinates…

He placed his hands around the Seraphynx’s harness. He traced a small heart-shaped indent with his trembling fingers and then fell limp. The feline mewed quietly, catching a stream of tears with a soft nuzzle. Those eyes were hers.

He reached down slowly and unholstered his Antigua. The frozen metal of the gun, tightly pressed to his flesh, burned through his temple. He closed his eyes and rested his finger on the trigger. The Seraphynx pawed at his hand.

“I’m sorry…”

The feline’s meow was cut short by a gun shot. The color drained from its small wings as its life did. He cradled its body in one hand and kissed its red-stained forehead softly. Then, he pulled the trigger one last time.