Heart of guilt
Fingerprints dusted the glass cover. His own prints...defiling the protection of such beauty. He let out a shaky breath, reaching out once more to touch the cool glass of the crystalline case. Within the dimly lit room, the single rose sparkled and shone, giving an eerie light to the destroyed room of the castle.
Xaldin's hand coiled back the moment he touched the case, as though it burned his skin during the brief contact. But it was something more, something the lancer couldn't understand. A pang of something strange surged through him, and he felt that for an instant...he had a heart.
He scowled a moment, hearing a distant rumble and crash of a raging fight down the hallways of the castle. If he was going to do it, he needed to do it now. Without another moment's thought, he snatched the jar into his hands, feeling the strange warmth that radiated from the flower and through the glass protection. He spun around on his heel to leave the room with a swift swish of his cloak, but something held him back.
There it was again, that strange and awful thing he felt eating away at his insides. It made his body shiver and shake, and his mind reel with questions of why he decided to do what he was doing. It didn't feel right...and he didn't know why.
He blinked back a strange sensation, hot and warm liquid welling up in his eyes. An experience he never expected to come from a heartless creature. He took a deep calming breath, cursing away the odd feelings he was feeling and stormed towards the door.
The heavy wooden door slammed open when Xaldin approached it, a burst of wind flooding in to rejoin its master. He eyed the decrepit room over his shoulder, his sapphire orbs taking in every detail of the once glamorous room of the Prince who lived within the castle walls. The wind whistled silently around him as he turned away and stepped swiftly out of the room, leaving behind all false guilt that gathered within his mind...leaving it to rot with age like the wrecked furniture that decorated the West Wing.