"It will be just like the good old days."

Yes, it would be like the old times. Before Father's tyranny (weak old fool. Bloated with his own self importance. I hated him). Before Republic City.

Before the mask.

I had lost everything. My reputation, my followers, my cause. But instead of feeling anger or loss, I felt strangely…relieved.

I had lost thousands of my followers, and in turn gained something that mattered more than any of them.

My brother.

He wasn't a subordinate, or a disciple or a second in command. He was family.

Everything and anything was possible. We could accomplish great things together - or, maybe not.

Maybe we could just…be?

Something bloomed in my chest. Something I had not felt in a long, long time.

Hope.

And then my world turned to black, and I fell into the arms of the unknown.

I was no longer a savior.

I was no longer a revolutionary,

I was no longer Amon.

I was no longer.