We rested before the soothing warmth of a bonfire well earned. The dancer's realm lay benighted around the pale halo cast by the flame's intoxicating warmth. Where ribbons of tattered flesh had once lay, my arm now gleamed bare, yet renewed; it was upon this that Or'do gazed, his eyes distant as the vaulted ceiling and just so dark.

"I asked too much of you." He rasped. "I pressed you too hard, forced you farther than I should. And now you nearly perished."

"So did you," I reminded him gently. "Besides, our kind rise again no matter how many times we fall. They only hold back the inevitable when beneath their blades we crumple."

"Pain and suffering linger all the same." He said bleakly. "And as we approach whatever Truth lies beneath the veil, as we near the thrones of those who perpetuate the cycle, our foes will only a thousand times stronger become."

"Then so shall we." Now it was I who leaned forward to clasp his shoulder, praying that my strength would comfort him, reassure him that I was no frail hollow on the precipice of madness and the destruction it promises. "I shan't betray you, now or ever, and not least when our path becomes troubled. If I abandoned you now, what sort of ally would that make me?"

"The wise sort"

"And the craven." I retorted. "This cycle is meant to trap us, is meant to bind us, and neither you nor I will tolerate it. The feeling of hopelessness that comes of knowing how futile it is, that whenever we vanquish the Soul, all that waits is another world laden with the same, if somewhat stronger foes. For the first time in my long life, Or'do, I have reason to hope, and that is more precious to me than anything."

He nodded. "Your words are kinder than I deserve."

"But precisely what you need."