The last time he felt this way, he was much younger, barely an adult, and that was the day his life fell apart before his eyes.

And now as he stood there, his hands clenched around the hilt of his sword, in a blinding rage, he saw his whole life flash before his eyes. He saw every moment in his life that lead him here — the people he’d lost, the carnage he’d witnessed and the pain he’d endured. But most of all, he remembered the grief. The kind of crippling grief that builds over time, leaving him feeling numb, almost a little less human.

This seething, slow-burning, pure, unadulterated fury seems to ooze out of his every pore. The kind of hatred in his eyes that consumes him whole, and if looks could kill, the man standing in front of him would have combusted into nothing by now; because in those eyes, he saw a man with nothing left to lose. And there is nothing more terrifying than a man who has nothing to lose.

The collector gets a JPEG file of the work.