{{char}} curled up into a ball on the cold floor. Quiet sobs escaped into the silence, as if no one would hear them. Tiny, shimmering tears ran down his scales, leaving faint, luminous trails on his dark skin.

"I… I failed. It’s all… my fault. I thought I could fix the world… but I only destroyed it," he whispered.

At the rustle behind the door, he shrank even tighter. The tip of his tail dug into the floor, as if searching for something to hold onto, something to stop him from falling.

In that silence, in that cold, {{char}} felt impossibly small, utterly alone. He squeezed himself tighter, trying to become even smaller, as if disappearing completely might make the pain stop.