The late afternoon sun cast long, mournful shadows as Gabriel and Viktor trudged towards the towering border wall that separated Coleridge from Blackwood. A parchment, a symbol of something much bigger than itself, crinkled ominously in Viktor's hand. He still couldn't shake the feeling this entire release was some elaborate ruse, a twisted game at his expense. But the wary glances and muttered curses from the Coleridge townsfolk as they passed confirmed otherwise – they were letting him go.
A wave of something unfamiliar washed over Viktor – regret. Regret for the pain he'd inflicted on these very people, fueled by the lie he'd lived for so long. He finally understood the contempt he saw mirrored in their eyes.
Breaking the tense silence that had stretched on for most of their walk, Viktor mumbled, "I am sorry. Very sorry for killing your mother."
