Author's note: When dealing with someone in your family dying, sometimes, you can't think of anything to write or say. And sometimes, you can't stop yourself. This is from one of the latter periods.

Disclaimer: I don't own. Don't sue, please.


SNOW FELL

He just laid there, in the small clearing he had finally reached. Bloody, bruised, broken, bare. His form now weak and human and covered in blood. He was completely still, except for the shivering. Snow fell around him, on top of him, but he made no move to find shelter for his nude body.

It was colder inside anyway.

Blue fingers were gripping the pendant, his fist so tightly clenched his fingernails had dug into his palm and blood dropped steadily onto the snow. He didn't feel it. He only felt the scorching heat trapped inside the necklace. The sun's scorching, burning, destroying heat.

Fate had taken pity on him, and had taken that heat. But now he wondered if he wanted to be without it. The snow, the clouds, the absence of the sun. It was a picture of what his saw inside, how he felt inside. Perhaps that was what was happening. His loss was so great, it was effecting even nature itself.

She was gone.

She was dead.

She was lost.

Their child had never even seen the world, had never taken its first breath or made its first cry.

Their child had never seen its beautiful mother, its devoted father.

And he was gone.

And he was dead.

And he was lost.

Lucian finally let out a loud sob and his shivering form shook from the force of his grief. He had run and run and run as the wolf, and then the moon, the sweet, freeing moon had left him. Abandoned him. Leaving him in this weak, pathetic form that couldn't even save his family.

Finally he had lost them. Finally he had found this place. Finally he had given out and fallen to the ground.

Eyes shining with despair looked up to Heaven, hidden by dark and stormy clouds that could never match the storm in his heart.

She was dead, and he was lost.

Another cry, loud and pleading, escaped his dry, hoarse throat. He had not even been able to hold her corpse. She didn't even have a corpse. Only ashes remained, and by now they had probably crumbled to the floor. Of that chamber.

And Viktor would get to touch them. He would be allowed to grieve for his own crime. But he would suffer worse. He would always know.

And Lucian would always be there. He would always be that reminder of this great sin.

But now was not the time for anger or thoughts of retribution. Now was time for him to grieve. But then, he would always grieve. He had lost his family, and he would live eternity alone. He would have nothing more than dreams and memories, and a simple pendant that was the only thing he got to hold.

Fate was cruel. Viktor was cruel. And now, Lucian would be even crueler.

Snow fell around and on him. And he grew numb.