The House of Ash and Guilt
He reached out with a withered, gnarled hand—trying to grasp me, to touch my face one last time.
"I'm... so... sorry..."
His lips moved, soundless, forming those three words—too late by a lifetime.
But his hand fell, limp and lifeless, against the freezing floor.
And in that instant, as his eyes closed for good, my spirit dissolved—scattering like starlight into the endless snow.
Every debt, every grudge, every wound—all of it faded into dust.
If there is a next life, Father, let us never meet again.