It felt like the world was ending.
Everything around him blurred, as though the air itself had turned into a cruel mirage.
His mind, heart, and even senses—they all felt like liars. Reality, once so sharp and clear, now felt vague and hollow, a distorted echo of what it should be.
The ground beneath him seemed foreign, like he was floating in an endless abyss. Nothing made sense anymore. Everything he'd fought for had crumbled to dust before his very eyes.
Atticus knelt before Freya's tombstone, his knees sinking into the earth as tears streamed down his face. His body trembled violently, his breaths coming out in ragged sobs.
"No… no, no, no…" he muttered between the sobs, his chest tightening with each breath.
"After everything… after all the hard work… I failed. I failed her… I should've worked harder… I should've protected her…"
Every word that left his lips was heavy with self-blame, the guilt gnawing at him like a ravenous beast.
