In the cold, shadowed alley, the mysterious cloaked figure knelt silently beside Aiden's motionless body.
The black hood hid the face completely as the figure bowed their head, pale hands clasped together in quiet prayer. Shoulders trembled slightly. There was no excitement in their posture, no thrill of victory — only deep, crushing regret that seemed to weigh on them like centuries of accumulated sorrow.
"…May your soul find peace in the next life," the figure whispered, voice soft and broken. "I did not wish for this. I never do. Forgive me… another innocent life taken by this cursed touch."
The figure remained there for a long moment, the silence of the alley pressing down like a tomb. Then, with a heavy sigh that carried the exhaustion of more than a hundred years, they rose slowly to their feet. Their black cloak swayed as they turned away, ready to disappear back into the shadows from which they had come.
Behind them, a faint sound broke the stillness.
A soft inhale.
