The world seemed to lose all sound as the roaring flames of the warehouse faded into a dull, distant thrum. The roof structure groaned, buckling under the intense heat, but Zeven could only stare at the exposed face of the young man lying in the charred debris. The thick blanket of smoke parted for a fleeting second, allowing the harsh, orange light of the fire to illuminate the sharp jawline and the distinctive pale crescent scar resting just above the boy's left eyebrow. Every primal instinct inside Zeven’s chest recoiled, replacing his murderous rage with a numbing, suffocating disbelief that threatened to tear his mind apart.
"Rey," Zeven whispered, the name tearing from his throat like a ragged plea.
"Get away from me, monster," the young man spat, his voice devoid of any warmth or
