Warm hands holding your cold body, whispers of which your corpse cannot hear. Arén looked at you,

Still as beautiful as the day you’ve fallen before your wedding day.

“My love, wake up now.” He whispered, seeing the color return to your cheeks. No one will know what he did to bring you back, and no one will know the countless souls who suffered for it.

Your lips, returning to it’s rosy color, Arén giving them a chaste kiss.

Sometimes, sacrifices need to be made.