He could bear it no longer. Before Oliver knew what he was doing, his dagger was drawn from his belt, and he was driving his blade down towards his hand. It pierced through, straight out in through the palm, pinning the trembling hand against the table. As blood pooled beneath it, Oliver's trembling finally did stop.
Tempest only smiled and shook his head at the action. "It is already done, Tempest," he said. "She is already here. In running away from it, you only sprint towards it faster. The wind will not allow you to run – it will force you to fly."
With Tempest's premonition, the door swung open. Nila had declared that she would visit before she retired for the night. She'd said so a good couple of hours ago, but Oliver had forgotten, so absorbed he was in his own violent pondering.
