Was he...dead?

...No. That wasn't possible for the likes of him.

Mydei stared up at the cliff he was cast from, every bone in his body shattered from the fall.

Everything hurt. He could feel the shards of broken bone piercing his cursed flesh, drawing blood that stained the pristine white wildflowers around him crimson.

This was nothing. He was used to this. He SHOULD be used to this. His father didn't love him afterall. Never did. He knew that well. Mostly from the fact that his father repeatedly beat him up behind closed doors and drove a greatsword through his heart, wondering why his blasted child just wouldn't DIE.

He threw Mydei off a cliff in hopes of never seeing that bastard of a child again, praying that the flame of life within him would finally be extinguished.

But he was a being ~blessed~ cursed by Nikador, rejected even by death. He couldn't have an end, no matter how much he wished it.