We have killed.
We have killed many.
The blood of child and dragon alike stains our armor. When I take watch, I put my back to the fire, and guard them against the things that follow us in the night. They trust me, even if they say they don’t. Even if they have no reason to. I watch them sleep, and I think of her, far and away, though she may no longer wait for me.
I think of her, even as I step through the feywild to slip close enough and slit the throats of those I once had to call brother, to keep low the suspicions of those I now must call friend. Those whose lives I now save, so that I may save her. They don’t even know her name. They do these things in the name of peace, to forestall a greater war. Atrocities, to save the world from those worse than us.
In the night, when I keep watch, most of them have bad dreams.
If I ever slept, I imagine I would have nightmares, myself.
That’s vicious, Jones. And makes me think of a massive world around this.
Thank you — the world itself is massive. And so very cruel.