The sun was setting, spreading golden light over the forest. The birds had grown quiet, and shadows stretched across the ground. Ivan sat on the cold earth with his back against the old tree. His body was still, his face pale in the fading light. The air smelled of damp leaves and pine, yet it gave him no comfort.
He should have gone back to the palace by now, but he did not feel the urge to move. His heart was heavy, his thoughts darker than the forest around him. He only wanted to disappear. The tree where he sat was the same tree where Lydia once saved his life. That memory made his chest ache.
A part of him wished he had died that day. If he had, Lydia would never have suffered all she had suffered. She would never have been dragged into his cursed life. He whispered bitterly, "Why did you save me that day, Lydia? You should have left me to die."
The forest answered with silence.
