98 | ACT VII, SCENE IX

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P R E V I O U S L Y

The screams of the High King haunted Endollon forever.

The screams of the High King haunted Endollon forever

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HARTINGTON CASTLE, ALNWICK, STORMHOLT.

ERIC

THE HIGH KING OF ENDOLLON did not break quietly.

No.

Nothing could have consoled him.

Nothing could ever come even close.

Nothing that Celinette did, nothing that Llewellyn did, nothing that I did. And in my heart... I knew he would never, ever, ever forgive me for this.

Every scream that ripped the air was a stab to my heart, digging in deeper and deeper with every passing second. His voice tore to shreds as he stood there - rooted to the spot - sinking to his knees.

The sounds that ripped from his lips had even Emerick shaking with tears.

Sorrow... from one man to another. To another who now found himself in that same, dark place after the loss of a wife.

A man who had lost it. Lost his life. Lost his soul. Lost his reason to live. Lost everything.

A man who had nothing left to lose.

The pale skinned figure near the window only watched him with agony in her wet eyes that were filled with nothing but misery beyond recognition. Her hands still cradled the three babes as they fussed about, content in their sleep but reaching out for their parents.

"My children," a sob tore from Amphitrite. "My children."

A second later, she was holding them. And tears stained those marble white cheeks, those closed lids, those tiny hands and feet as their mother wept.

And beside her, I was only a statue.

A statue wracked with such unbearable guilt, such overwhelming shame.

Elodie Valmont moved towards her grief stricken twin.

Who immediately took a step back.

"Don't," Tristan Valmont rasped hoarsely, "don't ever presume to touch me again."

Their mother and brother only looked on, horrified.

"Brother," she whispered quietly. "Listen to me."

His face was dark, brutal, unflinching.

"Which of you did this?" he hissed, teeth bared. That nauseating power swirling from him snapped to life like a third eye suddenly had blinked open, stifling us, choking us with the very might of it.

No one said a single word.

His fingers thrummed to life, and a second later... the Thunderbolt was back in his palms.

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