"Father!"
Garro anxiously watched Mortarion's expression, hoping to see some sign of a change.
His gaze probed the face beneath Mortarion's hood, searching every faint twitch of muscle for a trace of hesitation, a hint of wavering, some sign that he could still be brought back.
He held his breath, waiting for Mortarion to say no, waiting for him to reject Horus's overtures.
Yet Mortarion's face showed only lifeless gray.
It was a stillness like stagnant water, devoid of expression or warmth, as though beneath that gray-white skin, time had ground every emotion to dust.
He was as silent as a stone buried deep in the earth, refusing to stir while wind, frost, rain, and snow swept overhead.
Garro knew he seemed to have lost his chance.
It felt like an iron door slowly closing. He strained with all his strength to hold it open, only to watch the gap narrow little by little until it shut completely.
He stood there, feeling his heart pound against his chest, each beat carrying an indescribable weight.
"Father, please," Garro said one last time.
His voice was low and hoarse, trembling as though it might break.
It echoed through the Communications Room, struck the cold walls, and returned to his ears like a soundless reverberation.
Mortarion remained unmoved.
He did not even raise his head, change his posture, or offer any response.
His gray-white face seemed frozen in time, even the rise and fall of his breathing so faint it was almost imperceptible.
He simply sat there in silence, like a ruin that had collapsed yet somehow retained its shape.
The meeting ended in silence.
No one dared speak again. No officer dared break that thick pall of silence.
One by one, they quietly rose and slipped out of the Communications Room like