“Tell me what it is, what it does,” I demanded, lifting the sword and shaking it. “Explain to me how I’m a savior when the very blade I created ends worlds. Tell me I’m worth it. Tell me I am not the cause of our damnation. Tell me why I can’t sleep. Why do war drums and the screams of every battle echo through my skull? Tell me why my very existence is crumbling. Tell me how to fix me, Vincent, since you know so damned much. You can’t because no matter what you or anyone else wishes to believe so you can sleep better at night, it is the same thing. Dianna’s and my crimes, no matter if they
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