-ALEXANDER-
A month and fifteen days. Forty-five days. Each one a living hell, each one a torment of my own making. Forty-five days since Lilian, my little lamb, my little flower, had collapsed, broken and lifeless, at my feet. The castle remained a mausoleum, its dim light reflecting the unending despair that clung to me like a shroud. My unchecked power had left a trail of fear and death, but it had done nothing to bring her back. The healers, pushed to their limits, continued their work, but their eyes held no hope, only exhaustion.
I was a shadow of myself. Gaunt, hollow-eyed, my mind a constant war zone between crushing guilt and the maddening heat of the bond that only she could soothe. The previous two days, after Lyra's near-fatal attempt to sate me, had been a brutal testament t
