She kept crying and crying, her tears glistening in the soft lamplight as they traced silently down her cheeks. All I could do was hold her close, my arms enveloping her trembling form in a futile bid for comfort.
Yet even as I embraced her, I could not stop a grim, bitter grin from spreading across my face after hearing the terrible truths she had finally revealed.
In that fragile moment, my mind raced with questions. Does Lyle know about this? Is that why, in his strange compassion, he insists on keeping her alive—out of pity, perhaps? I never imagined he could be so sentimental.
And then there was this woman herself—someone of unimaginable importance, someone I had never suspected would wield such power in our tangled fates. What had she said? That she had been molested by Gioffre's father—an act committed in the twisted pursuit of producing an offspring blessed with divine power?
