Glennen shuffled solemnly away from the throne room. The sun which had been so bright at mid-morning had now folded itself away behind clouds. It draped Glennen’s mood in a heavy blanket of sorrow. Sorrow for the doomed angels; both the princess, and his lovely clockwork creation.
Racing footsteps behind him caused Glennen to turn back. The princess approached him with the shattered remains of the angel poured into her hands, her face wet with tears.
“You can fix it!” she pleaded angrily. “Fix it! Please!”
“I cannot.”
The princess collapsed to the floor. She was every bit as broken as Glennen’s angel.
“It isn’t your fault,” Glennen said kindly, a hand on her shoulder. “Your parents failed to instill you with the knowledge of your birthright. Their failure is your doom.”
“That isn’t comforting!” the princess wailed.
“You destroyed something in seconds that I spent your entire lifetime building,” he said quietly, turning again to walk away. “I am afraid I am in no position to give you helpful advice.”
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