The weight of Elian's words settled heavily between them, the silence that follows felt like the thick, suffocating fog that settled over barren lands. Izan could barely hold back the torrent of emotions swelling within him.
The severeness of Elian's pain pressed down on him with a force that was nearly unbearable, threatening to break him apart. But he couldn't afford to crumble, not when Elian needed him now more than ever.
He tightened his grip on Elian's hand, his thumb gently brushing over Elian's knuckles in a quiet, desperate attempt to offer comfort. "Elian," he whispered, his voice soft and pained, "I'm so sorry. I wish I could have found you sooner. I wish I could've saved you from him."
Elian's hand trembled slightly in his, but his gaze remained distant, haunted, as if he were staring into the depths of some unseen abyss.
