"Who?"
The question echoing in the temple carried with it silence and stillness, as well as an unbearable chill. The young man's heart, barely still functioning, skipped a beat as an invisible glass wall crumbled within him.
'I've grown up pretty much,' he thought. 'It's natural if he can't recognize me,' he concluded.
The mister's eyes were dull, lifeless, blank; as if the luster within them had long sank. His usually smooth hair was disheveled, no longer having the silky feel to it. His mister looked tired, or so more puzzled.
"It's-"
Knees giving out, the young man slipped down, and akin to a drifting snowflake, fell to the ground, limp and cold. Body quavering and breath wavering, with his gaze fixated on the man ahead of him, Reynold hushed out muffled words through his parched lips.
"I-It's me, mister, it's Reyn- Cough!"
