The guards stood watching in confusion.
Ivan was in the middle of them, crying.
The devil was crying.
No one moved. No one spoke.
The snowflakes landed softly on his dark hair and shoulders, but he didn't seem to feel anything.
He looked like a statue carved from grief. His back was hunched, his breath heavy and raw. The soft crunch of snow under his knees was the only sound in the dead silence.
Time felt frozen, like even the wind held its breath.
His coat hung open, letting the cold bite through the layers. But he didn't even flinch. His lips were slightly parted, his chest heaving up and down like a man drowning in air. Something inside him had broken. Everyone could see it, but no one knew what to do.
Some of the guards exchanged nervous glances. They had never seen him like this. Ivan, the cruel one, the storm in human form... crying like a broken man. His shoulders shook once. Then again. It wasn't loud. But it was real. Painfully real.
