The Forgotten Prince
#4
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     Coming out of the sickness had been like waking from a dream. Staggering blindly into some half-life, unaware of the passage of time but all too aware that time had passed. The disease had ripped the mind apart, as it had been with the heroine. At that point, he had forgotten who he was. Ahren de le Poer, the former crowned-prince of Chimera, last living remnant of Azathoth, father, son, holy spirit—he had forgotten everything except for that white light and the dark room. It was ash and timber now, a wreckage back in the place they had once lived. Gabriel had done that. Gabriel had seen that terrible country for what it was and thrown everything asunder in one fell swoop.
     Jasper was crying. That did not surprise him, given that the boy had been crying throughout the ordeal. Jasper cried more then anyone he had ever met. Sometimes, that worried the blonde. He couldn’t remember the last time he had truly cried.
“Hey kid,” he said, finding his voice unfamiliar, finding he was speaking to a stranger.
“You feeling any better?”





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