Lila's wails tore through the room, raw and unrelenting, like a mother wolf mourning her cub. She cradled Alexander's small body against her chest, rocking back and forth as if the motion could lull him back to life. Bloodless lips, pale skin, the golden hair that once shimmered under the sun now lifeless in her trembling fingers.
Her breath hitched as she touched his cheek, still warm, as if he were merely sleeping. "My baby," she whispered, her voice shattered beyond repair. "My baby, my baby, wake up—"
Axel stood still, his fists clenched at his sides. He had seen death countless times—on the battlefield, in his halls, in his own reflection. But nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to watching his son die by his own hand, knowing there was no other way.
Lila suddenly turned to him, eyes wild, burning with a fury so raw it could split the heavens apart.
"You did this." Her voice shook.
