Ren felt a wave of cold nausea.
He thought back to the days when he walked into his father's study and saw the man who had sat opposite his father, laughing over glasses of aged brandy.
To think that at that time, behind the smiles and laughs, he was mentally calculating the price of the floorboards beneath them.
He never imagined it, but it turned out Dennis had handed the very knife that was used to tear them down to Cilian, smiling all the while.
Was everyone an enemy? Was the world just a collection of monsters waiting for the lights to go out?
His mind began to fracture, the weight of the betrayal pressing down until he felt he couldn't breathe.
Cilian watched him, letting out a soft, almost pitying sigh. He knew this would happen.
His Ren was simply too soft-hearted for this world of shadows. Ignoring the flare of pain in his shoulder, Cilian forced himself to sit up, reaching out to offer some twisted form of comfort.
