Qurnuk beat the archer in the arm a few times as a sign of surrender as he was almost losing his consciousness.

Seeing Qurnuk's eyes roll with the agony of being hanged, Wokor fed a strange kind of emotion in his head.

There, the archer recalled the anguish of having lost his wings at the ceremony, and soon he could not help comparing his distress with that which he applied to his companion. He thought about how contradictory his conduct was by bringing pain to others but not thinking twice before being the same type of agent as those religious fanatics.

Closing his eyes on his final decision, Wokor released Qurnuk from his arms.

The black-winged moth-boy coughed roughly as he rolled briefly on the floor, while Wokor preferred to sit and turn his face away at that moment.

Catching his breath, Qurnuk dropped to his knees. His gaze showed a certain regret as he rubbed his neck.

"I'm sorry, okay?" the black-winged moth-boy spoke with regret to Wokor. "I know I can be very annoying when I want to..."

The archer said nothing, fancying to look at the wall as to avoid eye contact.

Still sorry, Qurnuk was crestfallen.

"I know what it's like to feel sad and answer things with your fists of anger," Qurnuk looked at one of his hands. “As a child, I often tried to prevent my colleagues from being lashed for nonsense.”

Qurnuk recalled some memories.

"I fought against superiors, shouted to priestesses and..." the black-winged moth-boy swallowed hard. “Well, let's say that I carried the penalty of many on my back. Sure, the High Clergy protects us from the heretics – those damn red-eyed people – but I… I can only…"

His fingers twitched on his palms in two wrists.

"I can only feed my anger," Qurnuk frowned at his ghosts. "The anger I feel when we have to bow our heads and accept being skinned to the bone. I mean, is this Lunar Doctrine’s true way?"

Wokor listened to that with some reflection, managing to connect - in a curious way - to what his colleague was saying in the present.

"So, I’m sorry," Qurnuk resumed as he looked back at Wokor's turned face. “I hide behind my mood so that reality doesn't affect me as it usually does. It's not fair to you... to anyone. But what can I do? I just... I just-”

Wokor finally turned his apprehensive face to Qurnuk, and it quickly stunned his next speech.

The black-winged moth-boy saw, for the first time, the hidden feelings that Wokor soaked into his soul. The archer's eyes gleamed with the beam of moonlight that penetrated the window, and Qurnuk was charmed by that angelic countenance, even though he knew that Wokor was a truly lethal machine.

There, with their eyes crossed, they saw their souls share the most magical moment of their lives. A bond so strong that it would be whispered in their hearts for the rest of their hectic lives.

Fate was calling... calling their spirits to dance as cosmic as the secrets of the wider universe.

Still delighted with those pink eyes so sweet watching him, Qurnuk offered his hand to Wokor.

"Can I... make up..." Qurnuk said oscillating. "For the first impressions?"