One night, when the moon hung high in the ink-black sky, casting an eerie glow over the courtyard. The scent of iron was thick in the cold night air, clinging to Lila's throat as she stood frozen in place.
Her son—her precious son—was kneeling on the ground, his small hands soaked in crimson. The lifeless body of a village boy lay sprawled beneath him, his wide, unseeing eyes locked in perpetual terror.
Lila's breath came in sharp, uneven gasps. Her mind refused to process the sight before her. This wasn't real. It couldn't be.
"Alexander," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.
At the sound of her voice, Alexander turned, his red eyes glistening with unshed tears. His delicate features, a perfect blend of hers and Axel's, were twisted in a strange mix of anguish and confusion.
"Mother…" His voice wavered, small and broken. "Did I do something wrong?"
Lila felt her heart lurch violently against her ribs.
