The night before the Festival of Chaos, Altair could not pull his gaze off Tenebrae, who was encased in a beautiful azure crystal. His fists were clenched, and an indescribable sensation of powerlessness overwhelmed him as he stared to where a slight crack blemished the side of her cheek, trailing down her slender neck.
He felt his heart wrench against his chest. "Mother…" He whispered, paying his respects to the woman who gave him everything.
For an hour, he stood there, palms clasped together in prayer. To whom he was praying, too, Altair could not say; he just wanted her whole.
