"You poor thing," the sun mocked. "It hurts me to gaze upon your pitiful plight. I will grant you a favour. Do you wish to see the family you will be placed into?"
Lucien's crisis and soul-deep loneliness engulfed him in its hungry maws. What was the point of being born just to suffer?
"Can you end my life? Erase my existence?" He asked. It was the closest he had come to begging the sun.
"Now why would I do that? We have chosen you for a purpose which you cannot avoid. We will not let you escape your fate, Lucien. Accept it and perhaps I will grant you what you seek."
Lucien had no reason to trust that the sun would keep its word, not that it had even made a promise. But what else was there in this universe that he could cling to?
"Show me," he told the sun. "My family."
