Florian's scream ripped through his throat, guttural and raw, reverberating through the forest like a wounded animal's final cry. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, but the sound twisted into nothingness in his ears. It was hollow, unreal—as though he weren't the one making it.
Or maybe it wasn't real at all.
Maybe it was just inside his head, tangled with the searing grief that gnawed relentlessly at his insides.
His knees buckled. The world tilted violently beneath him, and he crashed to the ground, dirt and jagged stones scraping his skin. Pain flared through his palms and knees, sharp and immediate, but it was a distant sensation compared to the storm raging inside his chest.
"No." His voice was hoarse, shredded. "No, no, no—"
This wasn't happening.
This couldn't be happening.
But it was.
