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[Luke doesn't turn either, a little wince on his face as if he's afraid to look as well. It's so tempting to drop his sword and go to his mother and say that everything's okay, but then he'd be trapped too. Instead, his own grip tightens, if only to clear his head and focus on the boy - this boy whose smile is already gone, this boy whose happiness is about to be destroyed - in front of him.]

My name... My name is Luke fon Fabre.

[It's not my name. It's yours. I stole it from you and never gave it back. Just like how I stole this whole perfect world of yours, this little spot of sunshine.]