CHAPTER 229: A Difficult Decision

CHAPTER 229: A Difficult Decision

In reality, the two Uber lycans were still facing each other amid flames, debris, and twisted metal. Everything was happening at a brutal speed. In a decisive instant, Fenix gathered the little strength he had left and, with a sharp and definitive movement, pierced through Enid's chest.

The impact was clean, quick. There was no glory in it, only a heavy silence.

Fenix withdrew his hand and, without looking, closed his fingers. The end came in that gesture. Enid's body began to lose size, the monstrous form faded and became human again, fragile, burned, broken.

Then Fenix raised his head and let out a howl.

It was not a cry of victory.
It was a lament.

The sound traveled through the entire clock tower, pierced the walls, filtered through the cracks, and was lost in the Berlin night. As the Uber lycan serum lost its effect, Fenix fell to his knees and returned to his human form. The howl broke, transformed into weeping.

He held Enid's body in his arms. There was no tension anymore, no rage. There was no pulse.

Fenix rested his forehead against hers, trembling.

—I'm sorry… —he whispered—. I wish the world had been different with you. I wish you had found the peace you sought so much… even if it was late.

He squeezed his eyes shut, letting tears fall onto the motionless face.

—You were my love, even when everything was wrong. Even when it shouldn't have been. Rest… you don't have to fight anymore.

The fire kept crackling around him, but for Fenix the world was silent. Only him, Enid's body, and a love that had ended in the only possible way.

Weeks later, television screens all over Germany interrupted their regular programming.

On the news, Enid Drakewood's face appeared accompanied by a sober banner.

"Enid Drakewood, renowned philanthropist and businesswoman, has passed away due to a tragic accident that occurred weeks ago. Authorities have confirmed there was no third-party involvement. Drakewood was known for her support of social foundations, urban reconstruction projects, and humanitarian aid both in Germany and abroad."

The images showed buildings with their lights off as a sign of respect, candles lit in different parts of Berlin, and messages of condolence from public figures. The city was in mourning. For many, Enid had been an influential, generous, and visionary woman. No one knew the complete truth.

The funeral was held at Waldfriedhof Dahlem, one of the most exclusive and silent cemeteries in Berlin, surrounded by tall trees and perfectly maintained gravel paths.

There were many people. Businessmen, politicians, benefactors, old allies, and ordinary people who had once received help from Enid. All dressed in black, all silent.

Among them were Fenix, Selene, and Lucian, the latter in his discreet turtle form, still beside Fenix.
Fenix remained seated, leaning against a nearby gravestone, his gaze lost and his body tired, as if the weeks had not managed to erase the weight of that night.

The priest spoke in a grave and serene voice.

—Today we bid farewell to a woman who left an indelible mark on this city. A complex woman, strong, ahead of her time. Who found in helping others a reason to keep going…

The speech continued, words of comfort, public memories, measured praise. Fenix barely listened. Selene remained a few steps behind, respecting his silence.

When the ceremony ended, one by one the attendees began to leave. Flowers covered the grave. The murmur faded until only they remained.

Fenix stood up slowly and walked to Enid Drakewood's grave. He crouched down and left a bouquet of simple flowers, nothing ostentatious.

Lucian watched in silence. Selene lowered her gaze.

Fenix spoke in a low voice, only for her.

—I'll come back… —he said—. Not once. Many times. I promise you.
—And I'm going to try to keep it… try to live. Try to do something good with what's left of me.

He breathed deeply.

—Rest, Enid.

The wind gently moved the leaves of the trees. Berlin continued its course, indifferent, while in that corner of the cemetery a story was closing that no one else would ever fully know.

Fenix leaned down and carefully picked up Lucian, settling him in his arms as if that gesture were the only thing he could still do well. The little turtle said nothing, but remained still, feeling the tremor that ran through his friend's body.

A few steps away, Selene watched him.

—Are you okay? —she asked softly.

Fenix nodded without raising his gaze.

—Y-yes… I'm fine.

But his shoulders were tense, and his head remained bowed, as if the weight of the world rested on his neck.

Selene took another step and shook her head slowly.

—You're not —she said—. It shows. I can see it in your eyes.

Fenix held Lucian a little tighter. His lips trembled. He tried to say something, but the words did not come out. Then he broke.

—I-I… I don't… —he stammered, and his voice broke completely.

Tears began to fall, one after another, without control. His breathing became irregular, choppy, and the crying came out as if it had been contained for too long.

Selene did not hesitate. She approached and hugged him tightly, wrapping her arms around him, without caring that Lucian was between them. Fenix rested his forehead on her shoulder, defeated.

—It's okay… it's okay —Selene whispered—. You don't have to be strong now. Not here. Not with me.

Fenix wept in silence, shaken, while Selene continued holding him.

—Loving doesn't make you weak —she continued—. And losing someone like that isn't overcome in a day. You did what you could… with what you had… and with the heart you still have left.

Selene rested her cheek against his head.

—You're not alone, Fenix. Even if you don't feel it now… you're not.