His mate seems to break. And so does Felih's heart. He ignores the phantom behind him, instead sinking down to his knees before his mate, ears low. A hand gently reaches out for Hades, trying to gently stroke over his hair, along his cheek, stomach turning with guilt and misery.

"...I'm sorry," he murmurs quietly. But he knows his beloved can't keep running from the truth. Felih is small and helpless and powerless, he knows. Compared to full Ancients, he is nothing but a husk and a shard, a shabby substitute for the person Hades truly loved. It hurts to have it confirmed, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

If only it were so easy to stop loving.