You must kill him, Ashen One. The Keeper sounded as morose as I felt. I gazed across the Bonfire, watching helpless as Or'do stoically suffered its scathing touch. He hunched there without a word of protest, his flesh leaking tendrils of steam into the night, surrounding him in a veil of grey. Yet still he smiled, still he laughed at some comment I had made.

I cannot. I thought, knowing the Keeper would hear me whether I spoke or not.

You have no choice. He is the Vassal of Darkness, the vessel through which the Ancients will return.

How can you be so certain?

Because I am not blinded by shame and guilt, not bound by a friendship that was destined to be lost the moment it was forged.

I will not murder him.

Then you doom us all. She spoke sadly, but as though she expected this. The Dark will return.

Good. I closed my hand into a fist. When it does, we shall crush it.

I wish I shared your confidence.

As do I, Keeper of the Flame. I exhaled softly, the flame swelling as my breath caressed it. For if you did, perhaps you understand the anguish you bring me with such demands.

Aye, yet if I did, who would demand them?