The crimson moon smeared vivid violets across the firmament and left the forest around Baeron's hidden and abandoned cabin in sheen layers of ice, hinting Sunsears death and Frostdrifts beginning. This was the first time he compared the two seasons to his own life, though the second time he admitted his treacherous heart would leave him dead and forgotten like an unmarked grave or akin to the withered leaves when Frostdrift arrived, burying them beneath layers of cold, neverending snow.
But Baeron held no regret or remorse in his heart for what ties he may sever, what children he'd leave parentless, what father would weep for their lost children. Love had created the monster his enemy was and death and society molded him; and everyone knew monsters shed no tears for their actions. No, they came to terms with them. They befriended their inner demons and strengthened alongside them.
