Astor looked at her, the sorrow in her eyes as she spoke of failing her mission. He wanted to comfort her, talk to her nicely to make her feel better but the truth was he did not know what to say. With every sentence that she finished he felt more and more confused, his mind always erasing the fact that just a while ago he wished to return to his mate.
"I am sorry, it must have hurt you, the fact that you couldn't fulfil your mission but I am sure you did the best you could. He was a god, how is it possible for a god to fall anyways" he mumbled.
The ghost of the forgotten priestess smiled, reminiscing something that Astor could not even imagine. Behind them was her god, his glorious shape with the sorrowful eyes, with the agonizing arms reaching out to all he had lost. Made of marble he almost seemed as if he could weep real tears and that made the werewolve's heart ache
