Orestes looked around him in disbelief. Had it really come to this? Were the others nothing but brutal killers? This creature was cowering before them, helpless, and their first impulse was murder?
Orestes drew himself up to his full height, his swords gleaming as they were pulled out of their scabbards. He clenched his jaw tightly shut, remembering what it was like to be judged for who one of your parents were. He remembered how the teachers had repeatedly singled him out for punishment despite the fact that we was the one who kept being beaten up. He remembered looking around him for support and only seeing hatred in the eyes staring back. He was not going to let that happen to Sibylle. Vogir was no different from the bullies in school, and like them, he must be stopped. Orestes was no longer a scared child, but an armed warrior, ready to kill ...and ready to die.
The world slowed down. There was no moral doubt, no shade of grey. There was right...and then there was evil to be extinguished.