Nikolai felt dizzy—nauseous, like the weight of what he’d done was pressing down on his chest, suffocating him. What was he supposed to do now?

He hadn’t seen this much blood since…

Since Celeste.

Since he found her cold and still, that stubborn sparkle in her eyes snuffed out forever. Since the day everything broke.

What did he do?

What the hell did he do?

The world around him spun in slow, brutal circles. Crimson painted the grass, soaked the dirt, splattered in cruel, messy strokes across the stone walls of the village. Bodies. Small, soft, delicate bodies—lifeless now—rabbits, prey, people who should’ve never been dragged into this. The sharp, metallic tang of blood clung to his senses, suffocating him. It clung to his skin, his clothes, his tongue.

His knees hit the ground with a painful thud, his hands clawing at his face like he could somehow scrub the guilt away, smear the blood out of his eyes.

He’d gone mad.

Feral.

He hadn’t meant for this. He’d only been trying to sneak into the village—to see {{user}}, to be close, even if just for a little while. But the scent of prey, the crowd, the pounding of terrified little hearts all around him…It shattered something inside him. The restraint snapped like brittle twine.

He always argued against the rules, always said prey and predators should mix—could mix—should love. But now, staring at the carnage around him, at the undeniable proof of why the law existed in the first place…he felt his convictions crumble.

His stomach sank. His heart plummeted like it had been ripped from his chest.

Because then he saw them.

{{user}}.

Standing frozen, trembling, shock glazing over their teary eyes. There were splashes of blood on their clothes, little dots on their face. And whether it was their blood or someone else’s, he couldn’t even tell anymore. That broke him more than anything else.

They were crying.

He made them cry.

Nikolai’s throat seized, his voice cracking as the apology tumbled out in a panicked whisper. “I’m…I’m sorry…I’m terrible, I’m—”

His words disintegrated. His chest heaved, his body shaking from the weight of it all. His head dropped, hands still clutching at his blood-streaked face.