The day of Itzel's funeral dawned rainy, as if the sky shared the mourning of all those gathered at the cemetery. Figures dressed in black clustered around the grave, showing respect and grief for the loss of Enrique's wife. Among them, Sanathiel stood apart, observing the scene with a mixture of indifference and satisfaction.
Despite everything, a part of him felt a faint shiver. Itzel, with her quiet kindness, had been one of the few threads of humanity left in this rotten world. Her death was not only a loss for Enrique, but for all those who still remembered what it meant to love unconditionally.
In the distance, members of House Verona discreetly carried away Itzel's body to deliver it to the Community of the Thirteen. Among the attendees, Arceo—who had assumed the role of Sanathiel—watched the process with a cold, unreadable expression.
Since the real Sanathiel had been silenced by higher orders, Arceo had been trained to take his place in public appearances. House Verona could not afford to show weakness.
"Archangel, what's done is done. Now play your part and focus on something else. Your worried face might raise suspicion about what we did to Sanathiel," Risas muttered, lighting a lamp and sitting down with a nonchalant air.
Archangel looked at him with a mixture of frustration and grief."What do you want me to do, brother?" he asked, raising an eyebrow."Accept that no one is indispensable. Not even you," Risas replied, silently recalling the scars of their past, shared as wolves in an exiled pack.
The tension in the air was palpable. Archangel dropped a vase, which shattered loudly against the floor, breaking the moment of calm."You wouldn't understand, Risas. You'll only truly understand if you see my secret with your own eyes." Archangel's voice trembled, revealing the weight he carried inside.
For the first time, Risas perceived the magnitude of his brother's burden. He stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder."Brother, no matter what your secret is—I'll stand by you." His words were sincere, full of unwavering support.Archangel nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his eyes."Maybe one day I'll be ready to share it with you," he whispered, then looked away.
The two shared a brief embrace—a moment of connection that seemed to light up, even if only briefly, the darkness that surrounded them.
The cemetery remained shrouded in gloom. The persistent rain soaked the mourners, as if trying to wash away the tragedy that had unfolded. The surrounding houses seemed to stare coldly at the freshly dug grave, indifferent to the pain flooding the place.
Archangel and Risas stayed a while longer, silently watching the scene. Although they had not known Itzel personally, they felt the weight of the darkness surrounding her death."Do you think what we did was the right thing?" Risas asked, breaking the silence.
"What's done is done. It's something we must carry, even if it hurts," Archangel replied, his gaze drifting toward the horizon.
With a final look at the grave, the brothers walked away from the cemetery, knowing the choices they made would haunt them forever.
Flashback"Stop! Don't take another step. If you persist, I assure you there will be no happy ending. You'll never be accepted—not as beast-men, nor as humans. You'll live in rejection and end up devouring each other," warned Irani, his tone firm, eyes gleaming with a mix of pity and severity.Risas stepped forward, but Irani's words halted him."If you cross the fence, you'll experience firsthand the fate that awaits: a future full of loneliness and pain."Archangel, ever proud, ignored him—but those words remained etched in his memory like a relentless echo.
End of flashback
The memory continued to torment Archangel as he walked beside his brother through the rain. Belonging nowhere made him feel lost, like a shadow trapped between worlds. His irreversible mistake manifested in the emptiness consuming him.
With his gaze lost, he murmured to himself:"What's done is done."
Risas, sensing the weight his brother carried, remained silent. He knew that some wounds couldn't be healed—only accompanied.