Duck Lake The last of kings

Tvar stood there, his broad frame still as her words washed over him.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t falter—he simply absorbed the weight of her confession in silence. His icy blue eyes remained fixed on her for a moment longer, studying her face as if searching for something he might never find.

There was no anger in his gaze, no bitterness.

Just quiet acceptance.

He inhaled deeply, the cold air biting at his lungs, and gave the faintest nod. “I understand.” he said, his voice steady but devoid of the warmth he might have once carried for her.

It wasn’t curt, nor cruel—just final.

"Goodbye, Gjalla." The smile he offered didn't quite reach his eyes. "It was... good to see you."

Without another word, Tvar turned away, paws pressing into the snow and carrying him away without a glance back.