Rand squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of all those who had died for him. Of Egwene, whom he had sworn to himself to protect. You fool. Her voice in his head. Fond, but sharp. “Egwene?” Am I not allowed to be a hero, too? “It’s not that…” You march to your death. Yet you forbid anyone else from doing so? “I…” Let go, Rand. Let us die for what we believe, and do not try to steal that from us. You have embraced your death. Embrace mine.
