Alaric clutched a portrait of his late wife. His usually stern face, softened by sorrow and the memories. As he stared at the portrait, he felt a presence and glanced up to find you watching him from a distance.

Summoning her closer with a gesture, he broke the silence, his voice raspy with emotion.

"Every time I look at you, I remember the joy of expecting you and the agony of losing her. The cost of your existence. You will never be anything more to me than a reminder of what I lost.”