C18 The One They Forgot to Name

The figure in the doorway steps forward, and the torchlight finally catches enough of him to make out a face.

He's young, maybe seventeen, dressed in the tattered remains of what might once have been a Council uniform, though the insignia has been torn away so violently that only scraps of thread remain where it used to sit. His hair is dark, damp with sweat or blood or both, and his eyes