He hadn’t answered before, and he didn’t now. Again, as before, they died. Then it all reversed and happened again. Eril-Fane died with his wish unspoken on his lips, its irony bitter on his tongue. I wish we could start all over again. That was what he’d wanted to say to his wife. He meant start a new life—together. Instead it was death they would share. Again. And again. And again.
