Alex's head slowly lifted.
His eyes—once sharp with vengeance, sorrow, and defiance—now held nothing. No fire. No grief. No rage.
Just emptiness.
Nyxara stepped closer, her paws almost hesitant against the marble. She said nothing. She couldn't.
Because the moment their eyes met, she froze.
Before the operation, even when Alex tried to bury his pain beneath cold words and steeled posture, his eyes had always betrayed him. Grief leaked through the cracks. Anger shimmered beneath the surface. A spark—a human flicker—always remained.
But now?
Now his gaze was hollow.
It was as if the boy had died in that capsule… and something else walked out.
Nyxara's ears were pinned back slightly, her expression tight with sadness and concern, but she didn't reach out or speak. She just watched him.
Then, Mona's voice broke through the tense silence, echoing from the side monitor as the screen flickered back to life.
