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Summary
In his memory, Felix looked at the beast Miklan had become with an expression of grim horror and open disgust. In his dreams, Felix stared at him, the grotesque shape of himself reflected deep in Felix's amber eyes.
He could not bear to see it. An ugly emotion rose from within him. The crest hooked in his bloodstream pulsed in concert with his repulsion and his fury, and then he was striking out. The familiar taste of blood in his mouth, the familiar satisfaction of bone crunching between his teeth.
Sylvain, haunted by nightmares of the Lance of Ruin and of turning into a crest beast, tries to ruin the last good thing he has. Felix won't let him.
