“He should have fought that fate,” he growled. “He should have told us, should have let us help him. But instead, he embraced it. He let Tory love him, let us believe in a future he knew we would never get to claim and walked towards his death like a willing sacrifice while damning the consequences. He’s gone now. Passed through the Veil to the peace that awaits there and where are we? Left broken in the ruins left by his end, left grieving and bleeding from a wound which will never heal.” “He didn’t expect to die on that battlefield,” I said, my voice cracking. “He didn’t expect to leave us
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