"God… anyone… please…"
Florian's voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.
He lay curled on the cold, damp stone of his dungeon cell, the chill seeping into his bones as if the earth itself wanted to swallow him whole.
The air smelled of rust and mildew, heavy and suffocating.
He pressed a trembling hand to his stomach, fingers splaying over the tender bump. The ache there was constant, relentless—his baby. Still alive, no matter how much he had tried to kill it.
Still living… only to die with him.
"…please let him remember. Please… show him…" His voice broke into a sob, words barely coherent.
His grip on his belly tightened as if he could shield the life inside from the inevitable.
Tears slid down his face, hot and stinging against the chill of the stones beneath him.
He curled tighter into himself, rocking slightly, as though his body could make itself small enough to disappear.
