Third-person POV

After a few long seconds of silence, Vale finally spoke.

At first, it didn’t sound like a clear answer. His lips parted slowly, his breathing uneven, like he was struggling to hold onto the moment long enough to say what he needed to say. His eyes, which had just softened when he looked at Electra, suddenly shifted, and something darker crept into them. It wasn’t confusion anymore. It was fear, real, deep fear, the kind that didn’t fade even after death.

"It was... the witch," he said suddenly, his voice rough, almost cracking as the words forced their way out. "The witch I married."

The room froze again.

For a second, no one reacted, like the words hadn’t fully registered yet, but Vale didn’t stop. If anything, he grew more frantic, his grip on Electra’s hand tightening slightly as if he was afraid he would disappear before he could say everything.

"She stabbed me," he continued, his voice rising, shaking, repeating itself in a way that felt almost desperate. "She killed me. She was the one. She stabbed me. She killed me. She was the one."

Over and over again, the same words left his mouth, each repetition more frantic than the last, like he was stuck in the moment of his death and couldn’t escape it. His breathing became more uneven, his expression twisting with something close to panic, and for a moment, it looked like he might lose himself completely.

Electra reacted quickly. "Calm down," she said firmly, her voice cutting through the rising noise in the room. Her grip on his hand tightened just slightly, grounding him in a way that seemed to pull him back from the edge. "It’s alright. You’ve said enough."

Slowly, the frantic repetition stopped, and Vale’s breathing eased just enough for him to regain a bit of composure, even if the fear didn’t fully leave his eyes, but the damage had already been done.

The room exploded into chaos. The reporters, who had already been on edge, immediately surged forward, their voices overlapping as they began to shout questions all at once. Cameras turned instantly, not toward Electra, not toward the coffin, but toward one person.

Jella.

Every lens, every device, every pair of eyes in the room shifted toward her, waiting, watching, expecting something, anything, from her. They didn’t need confirmation, and they didn’t need proof. A dead man had just spoken, had just named his killer, and there was nothing she could say that would erase that.

Jella stood frozen.

The color had drained from her face completely, leaving her looking almost as pale as the man in the coffin had been just moments ago. Her breathing had become shallow, uneven, and she looked like she didn’t know what to do.

She wanted to run. The thought was loud in her head, almost overwhelming, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t. Running would only confirm everything, would only make her look more guilty than she already did, and she knew that. She knew that every single movement she made right now mattered, but what could she say?

Nothing.

There was nothing she could say that would make anyone believe her over what they had just witnessed. A dead man had come back, had spoken, had accused her directly, and millions of people were watching. She had made sure of that herself.

Now, there was nowhere to hide.

Electra didn’t look at her again. Her focus stayed on her father, her expression calm again, even though everything around her had descended into chaos. After a moment, once Vale had fully stopped repeating himself, she spoke again, her voice quieter now, but still clear enough to break through the noise.

"What is your biggest regret?" she asked.

The question felt strange, out of place even, especially after everything that had just happened, but there was something about the way she asked it that made it feel important, like it mattered more than anything else she could have asked.

Vale blinked slowly, clearly caught off guard by the question.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. His gaze dropped slightly, his expression shifting again, this time into something heavier, something filled with a kind of guilt that seemed to weigh down every part of him.

"My biggest regret..." he repeated quietly, his voice softer now, weaker, like whatever was keeping him here was starting to fade.

His lips parted again, and this time, when he spoke, there was no panic in his voice. Just regret.

"Solara," he said.

The name came out slowly, almost carefully, like it held more importance than anything else. "What I did to Solara... that’s my biggest regret."

Electra’s brows furrowed slightly at the name, confusion flickering across her face for just a brief moment, but she didn’t interrupt him. She let him continue.

"I was a coward," Vale added, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. "I lived my life like a coward. I didn’t stand up when I should have, and I didn’t fight when it mattered."

His gaze lifted back to her, and this time, the guilt in his eyes was even clearer. "I should have protected you," he continued, his voice breaking just slightly. "I should have stopped her. I should have stopped Jella from hurting you, from ruining your childhood."

The words came out slowly at first, but then they began to repeat again, not in panic this time, but in guilt.

"I’m sorry," he said. "I’m so sorry."

Again and again, the apology left his lips, like he couldn’t stop himself, like this was something he had carried with him for far too long. His grip on her hand tightened slightly, even as his strength seemed to fade, and his eyes stayed locked on hers, filled with a regret that didn’t need to be explained.

Electra listened, even though she didn’t fully understand everything he was saying. The name Solara meant nothing to her, just like most of what he was talking about. She didn’t remember any of it. She didn’t remember him, or her childhood, or whatever had happened between them, but she understood enough.

She understood that he regretted something, she understood that he had failed her in some way, and she understood that he needed to say this.

So she let him.

After a moment, when his voice began to weaken even more, when the repetition started to fade into something quieter, she spoke again, her voice steady, even if her expression wasn’t as empty as it had been before.

"It’s alright," she said softly.

The words were simple, and even she knew they weren’t entirely true, but that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was him.

"You don’t need to worry about me anymore," she continued, her tone calm, even as the noise around them continued to grow. "I can take care of myself now."

Vale looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment, something like relief passed through his expression, faint but real.

Electra didn’t say anything else after that. Instead, she lifted her free hand slowly, placing it gently against his forehead. The contact was light, almost careful, but there was something about it, something that made the moment feel final.

She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering just enough for the words to feel more personal.

"Goodbye, father," she whispered.

For a second, nothing happened, and then, slowly, Vale’s body began to change.

It started subtly, almost unnoticeable at first, like the edges of him were fading, breaking apart in a way that didn’t look natural. The color drained from him even further, his form becoming lighter, less solid, until it was clear what was happening.

He was turning to dust.

The transformation was slow, but it didn’t stop. Piece by piece, his body broke apart, the shape of him dissolving into fine ash that fell gently into the coffin under him. His hand slipped from Electra’s grasp as it faded, leaving behind nothing but the feeling of emptiness where it had been, and then, just like that, he was gone.

All that remained were his ashes, resting quietly in the coffin where he had once sat. The silence that followed lasted for less than a second.

Then the chaos returned, louder than before. Gasps, shouts, the sound of movement as people struggled to process what they had just seen. The reporters surged forward again, their voices overlapping as they tried to capture every detail, every reaction, every second of what had just happened, but Electra didn’t move.

She stood there, her gaze fixed on the ashes, her expression calm, even as everything around her spiraled out of control.