Zillia cried herself to sleep. Kyrie stood there for a few minutes to ensure his friend was indeed sleeping soundly and no nightmare was lurking around the corner, waiting to afflict her mind and cause unnecessary suffering.
His lips felt rough, marked by dried tears covering his face. Sometimes all this pain was too much for him, all this suffering without a clear cause or ending felt too heavy for him to carry. If only she had told him earlier… but could he help it?
Share part of his power, and if he did, would that damned furball still steal all of her power? Too many variables to count, too many things for him to account for and plan. He was not a planner nor a strategist, but now it seemed he had to take on this role.
