Eris Igniva did not cry. Eris Igniva had not cried since that single, stolen moment in the dark beside Soren. But the tears wouldn't stop. They were a physical manifestation of a grief I could no longer contain.
"I should have…" I started, but the words died in my throat. I couldn't say I should have loved him less, or not at all. Even now, facing the end, I couldn't wish for a world where I hadn't met him.
"I'm scared," I whispered. It was the most honest thing I had ever said. "I'm scared."
"Of the dying?" Pyronox asked, his voice low.
"No," I said, my voice breaking. "Not of the dying part. Of not being there when he comes back. He's going to come back, Pyronox. He always does. He's too stubborn not to. And I need to be there. I promised him." I was pleading with nothing, a mortal woman begging a god for time I hadn't earned.
I was just a vessel. A container. And the container was shattered.
