The ruined valley was so quiet that the only sound was the soft patter of blood dripping from Raiden's chin onto the scorched stone floor.
He didn't move.
He stayed on his knees in the centre of the dead teleportation altar, his head bowed low, his torn fingers clutching the tiny scrap of Sylvia's white sleeve against his forehead as if letting go of it meant losing the last proof that she existed.
"Woolie..."
Across the courtyard, Woolie limped slowly out of the rubble, his black wool matted with dirt and blood. The violent thunder that usually crackled around his horns was completely silent. Looking at his human kneeling alone on the empty platform, the little sheep lowered his head, his ears drooping flat against his skull as he walked over and pressed his warm side against Raiden's knee.
"Sha... Sha Sha..."
