Wanna Hear A Funny Joke? Yeah, Me Too.

Aresenn flinched at Absinth's touch, but didn't pull away. Her grip on his shoulder was firm, unyielding, anchoring him in the maelstrom of his own emotions. He let her press her skull against his, the contact both a comfort and a torment. In that moment, he felt the full force of her grief, her rage, her despair - a perfect mirror of his own. They were one in this, bound by the shared loss that now defined them. He drew in a shuddering breath, letting Absinth's presence steady him. The fury that had burned so fiercely moments before began to cool, tempered by the realization that they were united in their anguish. Aresenn pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Absinth's gaze. In the depths of her emerald eyes, he saw his own pain reflected back at him, but also a steely resolve that he clung to like a lifeline.

"You're right," he said, his voice rough and low. "We built him. We gave him everything we had." The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but he forced them out. "And it still wasn't enough." Aresenn's gaze drifted back to the grave, to the pitiful mound of earth that now cradled their son. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of anguish crashing over him, threatening to drag him under.

Aresenn's heart clenched at Absinth's words, each one a dagger twisting in his gut. He remembered Indica's gentle nature, his love for the ravens that followed him, the way he would weave tales for his siblings, his eyes bright with wonder. They had tried to harden that softness, to forge him into a weapon, and in doing so, they had sent him to his death. "He wasn't like us," Aresenn said, his voice barely above a whisper. "He was never meant for this life. And we forced it on him anyway." The admission hung heavy in the air, a damning indictment of their choices. They had been so fixated on preparing their offspring, on ensuring their survival, that they had failed to see the individuality in each of them. Indica had been a dreamer, a storyteller, not a killer. And they had demanded he be something he was not.

The weight of her words settling like stones in his chest. Fix the fights. The idea went against everything they had ever believed, every code they had sworn to uphold. But as he stared at the grave of their fallen son, those old convictions crumbled to dust. What good were rules and honor in a world that cared nothing for their sacrifices? "They'll survive," he growled, the words a vow, an oath sworn on the blood of their child. "Whatever it takes.” His mind raced ahead, already plotting, scheming, looking for any advantage they could seize. The Saxe wanted warriors? They would give them demons, wolves honed to a razor's edge, unbound by any code or creed. Aresenn's lip curled in a snarl at the thought. Let the Saxe choke on their own bloody games.

He turned back to Absinth, his expression hardening with resolve. "Araxina and Dracun, they're strong. They've already proven that. But we can't let our guard down, not for a moment. We'll push them harder, farther, until there's no doubt they can survive anything this twisted world throws at them. All of them." He felt the flames of determination surging through him, igniting a new purpose in the wake of crushing grief. The cold wind whipped past, stirring the impending autumn leaves around their feet like a swirling storm of vibrant colors—each hue a reminder of the life they fought for and the legacy they would leave behind.

Tear the board apart. It was a declaration of war, not just against the Saxe, but against the very fabric of the world they had built their lives upon. And yet, as he stood over the grave of their son, Aresenn found that he no longer cared for the old ways, the codes and creeds that had led them to this moment of unimaginable loss. "Then we burn it all down," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Every last piece of their twisted game." His mind raced with the possibilities, the savage delight of tearing apart the system that had demanded such a cruel sacrifice. They would forge a new path, one where their offspring would never again be mere pawns on someone else's board.

Aresenn's claws flexed, digging into the soft earth as if he could rip the very foundations of their world asunder. "We'll teach them to be more than just survivors. We'll make them conquerors, wolves who bow to no one and nothing." The words tasted like iron on his tongue, a blood oath sworn over the grave of their fallen son. Aresenn's gaze locked with Absinth's, amber eyes burning with a feverish intensity. In that shared look, a pact was sealed, an unbreakable vow forged in the crucible of their grief and rage.

"Aresenn Praetor"