Too Late

Izan paced back and forth in his chambers, his fingers brushing against the half-pendant resting on his chest. His heart raced, weighed down with an overwhelming sense of worry.

Every step he took was fueled by thoughts of Elian. How was he now? Was he even awake? The uncertainty gnawed at him. Izan's mind spun with images of Elian lying helpless in the pavilion, surrounded by people who didn't care whether he lived or died.

"Enough of this shannigans," Izan thought fiercely, his brows knitting together in determination.

"I'm telling him everything. No more secrets. No more lies. I'm taking him out of that wretched place on my next visit, even if he hates me for it. I don't care, as long as I keep him safe."

His feet moved faster, his pacing more frantic.

The weight of his guilt pressed heavily on his chest, nearly crushing him.