His mind was clouded with images from the battle field, he saw people die, families were torn apart, the wall was nearly destroyed and chaos has consumed the holy capital. Now, Fenrir didn't know much of Crocus, but if this place was holy it was tainted now, tainted with the blood of wrong doers and innocents alike and it wasn't fair. Not to those who lived nor those who died. Whatever the goal was he did not if it passed or failed, he didn't even know what happened with the royal family after his episode, now he was fearful that he had lost and Asmo would be further disappointed in him.
He sat in the windowsill of an abandoned home, rundown and battered it was the perfect symbol of how he felt. It was once someone's home, sitting in the middle of two others like it as it overlooked the still road. One foot rested on the sill the other hung on the inside for support. In his hand was a silver coin, he looked down at it as is shimmered in the moonlight. "I should have saved more..." he clenched the coin in hand, had he not had his little episode of paranoia he probably could have saved more people, but instead he had lost himself to his instincts.
"I have the stupid magics, why aren't I stronger!" he threw the coin at a an already tattered wall, holding his head down, "Why couldn't I save more people..." he turned back to the window, head hanging as the night air blew past him. He could have saved more had he not been so busy killing and fighting, he should have saved more. What if they needed him? The people of this city.. What if they needed his help? If only he understood this magic... "Why can't I use it.." a tear streamed down his nose.