He'd led his fleets, he'd embraced his sons, he'd told himself that blood was thicker than water, and that the Eaters of Worlds were the army he wanted and the horde he deserved. He'd played their games, living another man's life. He'd listened to the others that begged him, that needed it all to matter.
His destiny was to be with the men and women who needed him, who called for him, who followed him into the mountains, and died without him. He was walking another man's destiny now. He remembered the cold moment of truth as he stood in the dark, his hurting eyes healing, that every day he breathed was an unwanted gift. He remembered the mechanical thunder of absolute betrayal, when he was stolen from the death he'd so richly earned.
He remembered refusing to abandon his brothers and sisters, beneath a blue sky at high-sun, far from the city of Desh'ea. “He remembered being blinded by his father's light.
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