In the fading red-gold light of the setting sun, you kneel before the throne bed. A faint wind whistles softly through the cracked windows, fluttering along the velvet banners, so tattered and decayed, forcing feathers and dust motes to perform short and frenzied pirouettes on the stone floor, which has long been worn away from dancing. but this wind brings no comfort, for it inhales the unmistakable smell of embers. But the kingdoms were reduced to ruins by a much smaller number of people.

The voice of the elder prince, sitting and swaying on the edge of his bed, sounds soft and clear. "Do you smell that? Ashes in the wind." He raises his bony hand to the sun, enclosing a ray of light in his palm. "It came to appropriate something that would never understand."

A single smoldering flame sweeps through the wind, gracefully igniting on the tip of a finger with a long nail. You watch as it cools down to a dull and deathly gray color, barely noticeable against the funereal pallor of his skin. "It's hardly hot enough to burn, and yet..." With a light tap of his thumb, the ashes turn to dust. With one movement, the ashes disappear. Rare sparks of convincing thought mix with memories, lighting the flickering candle flames at the base of his skull.

You remember the days when you walked around the castle together.

You never objected to lorian holding onto your elbow when his health started to fail. You will miss falling asleep in the evening to the rhythm of fingers with long nails running through your hair, and the sounds of those books that you read aloud to him, not paying attention to the fact that the words always merged into a meaningless riddle.

Even when the world around you was slowly collapsing, you never wished for anything else. You'd do it all over again if only it meant another life with him. The thought of it is comforting in itself; a soft golden light amid the ever-spreading smell of rot and decay that the entire kingdom has become.