Caius Ballad was a selfish man. He had seen the stars and the moon, counted them endlessly with her and pretended they walked a surface as pale and pure, the crumbling of cities, the death of thousands, the birth of few, but it was her small form that undid him-that he bowed down to. He would miss this Yeul more than the one who told him stories or stuck flowers in his hair. She knew him better than the rest. She held his hand tighter, smiled brighter. Everything he did was to stop the aching of his own heart.