"My Magnus—!"
In the vast palace hall, the anguished wails of a young 13-year-old girl echoed, piercing the somber silence.
"Please, return to me...!"
Tears streamed down her face, their salty trails tracing the depths of her grief. A veil of sorrow draped the air, heavy and suffocating, as the weight of an irreplaceable loss bore down upon her tender soul.
"AAAAAHH! AAAH!"
The haunting cries of lamentation reverberated, carrying the weight of shattered dreams and stolen innocence.
In the absence of words, her anguished cries spoke volumes, a testament to the tragic fate that befell her beloved betrothed, snuffed out by the sinister enchantments of a dark mage.
Magnus Gold Edenborn.
The last Apostle of the Goddess and the youngest son of the Holy Emperor was only seventeen when he died.
"NO...! My Magnus...!"
It was the first and last time Isla witnessed her sister groveling on the floor, her arms reaching forward to the empty casket.
Yes.
