As if mourning the fate of two souls torn apart, rain poured in heavy sheets over the city. The streets glistened under the storm's relentless fury, water pooling in uneven roads, neon lights reflecting in distorted puddles.
Azzy walked alone.
His head was bowed, his dark hair soaked and clinging to his skin, but he didn't care. He barely felt the cold. His steps were slow, unhurried—his mind trapped in the past.
Flashes of memory surfaced, vivid and relentless.
Claire's laughter when they first met.
The warmth of her hand in his when they used to sneak away from the academy to watch the stars.
The whispered promises made under moonlit skies, when love had felt like an absolute truth—a force of nature as undeniable as time itself.
And then, the shattering moment when she had looked him in the eyes and told him, with unyielding certainty, that she no longer loved him.
His chest ached, a hollow, gnawing pain that even divine strength could not heal.
