veiled hearts

prologue

That scene is forever etched in my memory, haunting my every waking moment. I can still see his eyes, wide with horror, his lips trembling, his mouth agape as the screams pierced the air. I remember the way the color drained from his face, the way his body tensed with fear. I had pleaded with him, my voice breaking with desperation. "Stay close to me," I begged. "Leave the battle to the guards."

But he didn't listen.

They didn't listen.

No one stayed close to me. In the chaos of that fateful day, everyone moved, driven by their own fears and instincts. I was left alone, standing amidst the carnage, as the guards fell one by one, their lives extinguished in a brutal symphony of violence. No one came to my aid; their loyalty vanished in the face of overwhelming terror.

The aftermath was a desolate wasteland. Nothing remained of the people I once knew, not even their crowns, symbols of their authority and plans for the future. The love they had always provided, a constant in my life, was suddenly and irreversibly gone. The bonds that had held us together were shattered, leaving me adrift in a sea of sorrow. Sometimes it feels like it was never there in the first place. Like I was never there. Like everything I once knew was a mirage, a cruel illusion that vanished with the first touch of reality. But the scars on my body, the echo of their screams in my mind, their final, desperate words—those are all too real. The pain and sorrow in his eyes as he took his last breath, those moments are seared into my soul, a permanent reminder of what was lost.

The weight of their absence is a constant burden, a reminder of the price we paid. The scars, both visible and invisible, are a testament to the love and loss that define my existence.

My scars still remain. The fact that people refuse to perceive them doesn't mean they aren't there.