Things happening all over Astrea could be said to be interesting—but not very different were the things on the side of the young Count. Lost in a world of his own making, he had ventured out to seek something that would anchor him, that would allow him to become a version of himself he believed was the closest to who he truly was.
But all he had found was ruin—ruin born of his own choices, of his own ignorance. Ruin born from disregarding his mother's life's work. And he had the gall to be emotional.
Groveling in the dirt like some animal, when he should have been so much more. More than this depiction of grounded personality that he had adopted.
Krael had been nothing if not a difficult, complicated character. He had his moments, yes—but all they ever did was build anticipation, only to result in disappointment. How then would the one who poured their very essence into his existence feel, watching all of that effort be smeared into nothing?
