As the words reached him, something seemed to snap inside of him. He could hear Lorenzo calling out to him, he could hear Nadeline's pleas, but Zodiark's words chimed like a bell, repeating over and over. He could barely bring himself to even look at the creature, though he felt himself shaking his head. The image of that day was one he could never forget--the sight of his brother's blood soaked hands, the body of his father below him, betrayed by his own son. There was always a thought in the back of his head, one that as a child, he never thought someone capable of committing a crime of regicide against their own father. But reality had been set to prove him wrong, and so he had accepted it, ignoring the naive motion. People were terrible, cruel things. It would not be the first, nor the last time a son had killed his father.

And he was right. 

He wasn't aware he could become more broken than he already had. It was empty, he couldn't hear, he couldn't feel, he couldn't even respond. The despair gripped him, taking a hold so fierce he thought it was going to tear his mind apart. Shock paled in comparison to whatever it was he felt.

Grant was silent, but not by choice.