“We will jump,” you warned. “We will fall. But we won’t crash,” you ensured. Your Fireball words, spiced with danger, and sweetened with cinnamon…I drank them down, even if I knew… I knew... you could make no such promises. I may have ordained you the Holy ruler of my body, mind, and soul, but you were born a mortal. You’d die a man. Perhaps, you’d die as one right now.
