It all happens so fast. When the shot rings out, Wilhelm freezes against the tree. Behind him, the Wraith's sharp grunt cuts to silence. Grip slackening, the man collapses to the ground. Wilhelm's own knees feel ready to buckle. Gripping the trunk for support, he turns himself around to stare at the body spread across the grass. The frozen face tilted toward the ground is that of a stranger. Tears, sudden and sharp, blur his vision anyway as an empty aching guts him. Of course it wasn't Erik, because Erik is gone. Despite his brother's promise that they would see each other soon, he'll never see him again.

Ches's shouting seems to come from somewhere far away. His heart and his heavy breath are louder in his ears. His chest pinches tighter, his vision narrows — and at the dark edges he sees the crowned figure again. His throat constricts around a whimper.

Blindly, Wilhelm surges forward, stumbling over the splayed legs of the felled Wraith. He manages to stay upright, but it seems that the harder he tries to pump his legs, the heavier his body becomes. As if the gravity of some unknown mass exerts its pressure on him by inexorable degrees. He doesn't remember going down, but suddenly he's on his knees in the grass. His arms curl over his head and his fingers curl into fists around his hair.

"Sorry. Fuck. I'm sorry."

Dimly, he's aware that the other suited Wraiths must be swarming the house. And Ches is out here trying to protect his stupid, useless ass while his family is in grave danger.