one last breath

Kassander closed his eyes. His throat tightened in shame and grief. Cassiel. She'd named the boy after him, and he couldn't even remember her name. His eyes drank in the sight of the young man, the mask that proudly proclaimed a heritage he likely knew nothing about, the mismatched eyes shades darker than his own. He looked so much like Raisa, in a way, more so than he did the black and white form of the mother who'd birthed him. He didn't wear the auburn of her coat that Kassander had inherited but the resemblance to the Xanilov line was still unmistakable. "Cassiel Xanilov," he whispered, savoring the feel.