In the darkness of his mind, he felt his head throbbing relentlessly. A distant, muffled voice reached him through the haze.
Someone was wailing. It was the sound of a man who was totally devastated. Ivan could faintly feel warm, protective hands wrapped around his small, weak body.
Something wet was falling onto his face.
When his crimson eyes fluttered open, he saw a familiar face.
It was his father, King Iskara.
Though the face was known to him, the expression was that of a completely broken man who had lost everything. Ivan could feel his father's shoulders tremble. Only one name tore from the King's lips, repeated over and over like a prayer.
"Irene….my beloved."
The sheer agony in his father's voice shattered the young Ivan's heart into a million pieces.
He then heard another man's deep, rough voice. "You have to be strong, Iskara. Ivan still needs you, now more than ever."
