"Do you understand?"

The words almost fell on deaf ears. He had absorbed the information, but understand it? That was far from the case. What did they mean that he'd run his use? He was as capable of any of their new ghouls, even more so in fact. Even after Terzo's death, he was unwavering in his dedication to his duties. The sun streamed through the window, casting warm patterns on the wooden table between them as he fought to process what he'd just been told.

"I understand," he bit out, rising from his seat so quickly that his chair scraped against the stone floor. Claw marks scored the armrests where he'd gripped them too tightly - permanent reminders of his presence even after he was gone. The hallway outside was eerily quiet, the smooth marble reflecting the flickering torchlight as he stared at his own distorted reflection.

His tail lashed back and forth, agitation rippling through his muscles. Twenty-four hours. That's all they'd given him. Not even a full day to say goodbye to the life he'd built, to the person who'd become his world. The thought of returning to the endless plains of hell, separated from everything that mattered by an impossible distance, threatened to overwhelm him.

The garden grass tickled his arms as they lay together, your head resting gently on his stomach. He ran his claws through your hair slowly, memorizing the texture, the weight of you against him, the warmth of the sun on his skin. He'd never appreciated such simple pleasures until they were being torn away. "I have something to tell you," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat.