Aclric lay on the bed, trembling, his breaths shallow and uneven. Tears streamed down his face as he curled into himself, whispering, "Please… don't do this to me…"
His mind was trapped in the shadows of the past—dark, twisted memories he couldn't escape. Faces blurred in his mind, voices echoing, hands reaching, and fear consuming him. He could still feel it. The helplessness. The silence that followed his screams.
"No," he whimpered, clutching the blanket tightly. "Not again…"
His body shook as he cried harder, the weight of it all pressing down on him. Alone in the dim room, Aclric was not fighting what was happening—but what had already happened, the pain that refused to leave him.
Outside Juliet Mansion
Walter and Jonathan were training in the courtyard, swords clashing under the afternoon sun. Walter moved gracefully, showing Jonathan how to handle the blade with precision.
"Keep your stance firm," Walter instructed, adjusting Jonathan's grip. "Like this."
