It didn't sit well with Rex.
Seeing Mayar's absolute disregard for Aylith, his own mother who had given him existence and raised him to become who he was right now, prickled something ugly—inside of him. Not that he felt pity for Aylith and her situation.
Not in the slightest.
He was not fool enough to assume Aylith had been a kind and loving mother in the ancient past.
Perhaps she had been cold, strict, and ruthless.
Perhaps the Lunirich Gods had actual reasons for their bitterness towards their own mother.
Perhaps the way they treated her was a wound Aylith had earned.
But regardless, this dynamic gnawed at him to the bone. Far more than he had anticipated.
For Rex, it didn't matter what she had done; it didn't matter what failures stained her hands; Aylith was still their mother. Her presence alone should've stirred something in Mayar. A flicker of recognition. A spark of hatred. Or maybe even sadness. Anything.
Hatred, Rex could've understood.
