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Fate, I knew all too well, was real. He wasn’t an obscure concept of destiny, or a dream of what the future might hold. And he certainly wasn’t luck or a wishing well. He was sentient and very
much alive. I was Fate’s daughter, and he lived inside me.
Heavy was the head that wore the crown, though many coveted the weighty circlet.
Tauren had more magic in his person that I had learned in all my years. He was like an undine, luring me into troubled waters and coaxing me to take his hand, only to drag me into the depths, never aware that I was slowly drowning, never caring if I ever tasted the air I desperately needed again.
We had to process death with emotion, and experiencing death, and mourning the loss of someone you loved, was not only inevitable for all of us, it was something that transformed us into a stronger version of ourselves.

