Asher's hand trembled violently, his breathing shallow, chest heaving with unbearable sorrow as he slowly raised it towards Arthur's charred and broken skull. His palm softly rested against the burned bone, the roughness reminding him of the terrible sacrifice he had forced upon his own son.
"What…what have I done…" Asher whispered, his voice barely audible, filled with deep regret and anguish. Every fiber of his being ached with guilt as he stared into the dark, hollow sockets flickering with dark green embers, the faint echoes of the vibrant life Arthur once had.
Arthur gently raised his skeletal hand, grasping his father's trembling fingers with surprising tenderness. His voice, though eerie and resonant, held a warmth that pierced through the gloom, soothing Asher's shattered heart.
"You gave us all another chance. Do not grieve for what has already happened, Father," Arthur said softly, "If you hadn't done it then none of us would be standing here."
