- To realize that that empty eyes belong to the only one you value... The one whom you called your life, your family stops breathing, and you... You are left all alone, defenseless and lost in this world..

***

When the blade falls to the ground with a heavy, metallic clang and hits the stone, turning it into a bloody color in wide drops, something inside Xavier breaks with the same sound, releasing locked emotions and feelings. The Knight settles down, not feeling his body and not controlling it, while the lion on his bloody paws becomes heavier and heavier, dragging him along. The light, curly hair is soaked with scarlet drops that have turned it into a solid mess, a fresh wound glistens on the cheek, left by a someone else's paw in its last swing, and the claws now with a quiet whistle cut the air, leaving the shackles, then close back in them, as if the lion does not know what else he can do with them. He hates himself so much that at this moment he can hardly restrain himself from feeling sharp needles in his own throat.

Tears accumulate in the corners of his brown eyes, which are forcefully given a way out, through a sob locked in her chest. They draw wet paths up to the chin, without a single sound, which accumulate in a lump in the throat of a warrior, while the native, insanely sunny look slowly fades, becomes cloudy, reflected in the coffee eyes with the last fervent sparks of the past. When the faint smile that shines on the face of the murdered lion grows into a grimace that vaguely resembles her, and the corners of his lips droop, unable to support the smile anymore, Xavier breaks down.

He screams, low, long, releasing the pain that has been accumulating for months. The tears fly apart, sparkling in the rare sunlight that breaks through the clouds, while the scream mixes with a hundred screams everywhere, getting lost among them, echoing them and fading away, only to grow into a new sound in the next second. Xavier is practically not breathing - he is torn in half from the inside, somewhere deep, so deep that he could not even imagine that it would hurt so much. The curly mane rises slightly when the lion lowers his head, burying his nose in Mavozi`s soft fur, highlighted with reddish shades in the flashes of the sun. His body is shaken by convulsive agony, forcing him to arch in the same way as the convulsions of the dying, and the Knight really believes that he is dying, wishing it with all his heart.