Even if he had managed to keep the anger from his eyes and voice, there was no doubting its existence. She could feel it creeping around the edges of consciousness and knew that it ran too deep to ever fade. Ninety-nine lives snuffed out for the sake of power. A village. His village. Suddenly, his ghosts made more sense as did his attachment to what she had once seen simply as an energy source.

"How old were you?" she said quietly, meeting his gaze evenly. She felt no pity for him, he wouldn't want it anyway and it wouldn't help anyone now.