Mercy in Disguise

Summary

The day the Grand Army returned victorious, I cradled Silas and joined the bustling crowds.

Silas pointed at the general on horseback, who held a young child in his arms, and asked me, "Mama," he chirped, "that man looks just like the papa in the painting!"

My grip on Silas tightened, knuckles whitening. "Nonsense," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "That's not him."

He once was, perhaps. But now, he wasn't. And he never would be again. He had ascended to the heights of ambition, and I, a mere mortal, couldn't have tethered him even if I’d dared.