His mind replayed the memories without his permission, as vivid and terrible as the day they were made. The throne room in his family's estate, cold marble beneath his knees. His mother's face, beautiful and impassive, watching as the guards held him down. Her voice, so calm and measured, explaining why he had to die. "You were a mistake," she had said. "An inconvenience. Your very existence threatens everything I've built."
The poison they had forced down his throat. The burning in his veins as it took effect. The way his mother had watched him convulse and die, her expression never changing, as if she were observing something mildly interesting but ultimately unimportant.
And then darkness. And then... rebirth. Into the sol'vur clan. Into a new family that had loved him, accepted him, made him whole again.
A family that was massacred while he was powerless to stop it.
