And in that breath of silence, I knew.
I knew before he spoke, before his lips formed the words.
And it gutted me.
“He didn’t make it.He’s dead.”
“No…” My voice broke.“Amir!”
His name tore from my throat—an uncontrollable wail of pure agony.
The sound bounced off the walls of this gilded tomb, filling the space with my grief.
No.
No, no, no.
This couldn’t be real.
A scream ripped through my throat, raw, broken, shattering me from the inside out.
I thrashed beneath the old man’s grip, my body twisting in futile rebellion, as if fighting hard enough could undo his words.
Could bring Amir back.
But there was nothing.
Just this unbearable truth swallowing me whole.
“Amir!”I sobbed, my vision blurring with tears that would never be enough to mourn him.
The pain—gods, the agony.
It filled me and devoured every crevice of my being until I was nothing but loss and ruin.
“Please, child.”
The old man’s voice no longer commanded—it pleaded.
His touch, once cold and foreign, softened.
But no hands could hold me together.
Not when everything inside me was coming undone.
And then?—
A bitter taste bloomed on my tongue.
Something pressed to my lips.
A thick and foreign liquid coaxing me to swallow, to yield.
I tried to fight.
I tried to spit it out.
But the world was already tilting, my limbs growing heavier, my body sinking.
