Blooded

Byron Domitius lay in an expanding pool of his own blood on the floor of the entrance hall at Charing Academy. At least dying to save these brats would possibly win him a spot in some glorious afterlife, only one of which he paid any stock to. He’d eradicated three of Wormwood’s soldiers in their concerted attempt to invade the school and maimed a few more. It was, perhaps, a fair exchange.