"What in the hells do you think you're doing?!"
The voice, sharp and laced with a fury as potent as any desert storm, ripped through the numbness that had settled upon me. I stopped, my momentum carrying me a few steps further before I turned, my gaze sweeping across the barren landscape.
A human woman stood before me. Small, insignificant. Like all the others. Yet, she stood directly in my path, her arms crossed, her dark hair whipping in the wind, her eyes blazing with a fire that rivaled the setting sun.
My initial reaction was… nothing. Emptiness. I had grown weary of crushing gods and monsters, of watching civilizations crumble before my might. They offered no challenge, no… meaning.
"Move aside, mortal," I commanded, my voice a low rumble that echoed across the desolate plains. "Your life is but a grain of sand in the vastness of time. Your existence… inconsequential."
She didn't flinch. Instead, she planted her feet firmly, her chin lifting defiantly. "My life is my own, creature," she retorted, her voice as sharp as the obsidian blade sheathed at her hip. "And this land… it is sacred. You defile it with your presence."
I had heard such pronouncements before – from mages who believed their paltry spells could bind me, from gods who thought their celestial light could banish me. They had all fallen before my might.
But there was something… different… about this woman. Her defiance wasn't fueled by arrogance or a misguided sense of power; it was rooted in something deeper, a connection to the land, a fierceness that resonated with the untamed heart of Shurima itself.
"I am Yaavin," I declared, letting the weight of my name, the echoes of my destructive deeds, settle upon her. "The Unmaking. The Storm that Consumes. You would be wise to heed my words, mortal."
She scoffed, a sound as dry and brittle as the desert wind. "And I am Annette. But Yaavin? A fitting name for a creature who throws a tantrum because the world doesn't tremble at his feet."
Her words struck a nerve, a spark of irritation igniting within me. She saw through my facade, recognized the emptiness that gnawed at the edges of my chaotic soul.
"I grow weary of crushing gods and monsters," I admitted, my voice softer than usual, a hint of vulnerability creeping into the rumble. "They offer no challenge, no… satisfaction. I seek something… more."
"Then perhaps you're looking in the wrong places," she said, her voice losing its sharp edge as her gaze softened.
I stared at her, taken aback by her words. "Wrong places?" I echoed, the concept of searching for anything, let alone something intangible like satisfaction, utterly foreign to me. "What do you mean?"
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "You seek challenge, you seek power. But have you considered that true strength might lie in something… else?"
Irritation sparked within me, a familiar heat replacing the momentary confusion. "Strength is the ability to dominate, to bend the world to your will. I have crushed gods and monsters, shattered empires, and tasted the chaos of the Void itself. What else could there possibly be?"
She shook her head, her dark hair rippling in the desert wind. "There is strength in creation, in nurturing life, in protecting what you hold dear. You've tasted destruction, Yaavin. Have you ever tasted the sweetness of creation?"
Her words were like a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down before a king who had never known defeat. And for some reason, instead of obliterating her as I had so many others, I felt a strange urge to… engage.
"Creation? You speak of things I have no interest in," I scoffed, turning away as if to resume my journey.
But she didn't let me go.
"Then perhaps you should," she said, her voice following me like a persistent shadow. "What will you do when there is nothing left to destroy, Yaavin? When the world is a barren wasteland, a testament to your power? Will you find satisfaction then?"
I stopped, my back to her, my fists clenching. Her words stung, a painful truth hidden beneath their sharp edges. She saw the emptiness within me, the hollowness that even the most spectacular displays of destruction couldn't fill.
"What do you know of satisfaction?" I asked, turning to face her, my voice laced with a challenge that felt almost… playful. "You are a mortal, bound to this fragile existence. Your life is a flicker compared to the eons I have witnessed. What could you possibly teach me?"
She smiled then, a warmth spreading across her features that seemed to soften the harsh desert landscape around us. "I know the joy of watching crops grow, of nurturing life, of protecting what I hold dear. I know the satisfaction of creating something beautiful, something that will endure long after I am gone."
I stared at her, her words a melody so different from the symphonies of chaos that had filled my existence. She spoke of things I had never considered, concepts that felt both alien and… alluring.
"You speak of things that hold no power," I said, my voice losing its harsh edge, a flicker of curiosity replacing the usual arrogance. "What good is creation if it can be so easily destroyed? What value is there in a life that is fleeting, destined to fade like the desert sands?"
She met my gaze, her eyes blazing with a conviction that matched my own. "Even the smallest spark of life can ignite a fire that burns for generations," she replied. "And the memories of those we love, the stories we leave behind, they echo through time, shaping the very fabric of existence."
I scoffed, turning away. "Sentimental nonsense."
But as I continued my journey northward, her words followed me, whispers on the wind.
I continued north, the icy winds of the Freljord a stark contrast to the desert heat I had left behind. But the landscape, the echoes of primal magic that pulsed through this frozen land, held no allure. Annette's words lingered in my mind, a persistent hum that disrupted the symphony of chaos I had embraced for so long.
"Strength in creation… nurturing life… protecting what you hold dear… the sweetness of creation…"
Her words were a plague upon my thoughts, infecting them with an unsettling vulnerability. What did she know of creation? She was a mortal, a fleeting spark in the vastness of time. Her existence was insignificant compared to the eons I had witnessed, the countless worlds I had seen crumble and reform.
And yet…
I found myself drawn back to her farm, an invisible force compelling me to observe her from a distance. She moved with a grace and purpose that defied her fragility, tending to her crops, caring for her animals, her laughter echoing across the fields like a melody of defiance against the harshness of the Freljordian winter.
I watched her, hidden amidst the shadows of the nearby forest, my curiosity growing with each passing day. I saw her mending fences with calloused hands, her brow furrowed in concentration. I saw her tending to a newborn lamb, her touch gentle and reassuring. I saw her laughing with her family, their faces illuminated by the warmth of the hearth fire, their voices a symphony of love and shared history.
It was… fascinating.
This simple life, this fragile existence that she cherished so fiercely, it held a power I couldn't comprehend. It was a power that had nothing to do with destruction, with domination, with the chaotic forces that had consumed my existence for so long.
It was a power that… intrigued me.
Days turned into weeks, and still, I watched. Annette's life unfolded before me like a tapestry woven from simple threads – work, family, laughter, love. And within those threads, I glimpsed a strength that defied my understanding.
One night, the wind carried a different kind of melody – the clash of steel, the guttural shouts of men, the panicked bleating of sheep. Raiders. They descended upon the farm, their shadows long and menacing in the moonlight.
I watched from the forest's edge, my initial reaction a detached amusement. Mortals clashing over petty possessions, their lives as fleeting as the winter snow. It was a spectacle I had witnessed countless times, a familiar symphony of violence and despair.
But as I watched Annette and her family fight back, their courage blazing brighter than the torches they wielded, something shifted within me. Her laughter, once a melody of joy, now rang with a fierce determination. Her hands, usually gentle and nurturing, now wielded a blade with a skill that surprised me.
They fought bravely, but they were outnumbered, outmatched. One by one, they fell, their bodies crumpled amidst the trampled snow.
And then, I saw her—Annette, surrounded by raiders, her eyes blazing with a defiance that mirrored my own.
A surge of… something… coursed through me. It wasn't the familiar thrill of destruction, the intoxicating rush of chaos. It was something… protective, a primal urge to shield her from harm.
I stepped out of the shadows, the ground trembling beneath my feet. The raiders, their attention focused on their prey, barely had time to react before I was upon them.
My power, unleashed without restraint, was a whirlwind of destruction. They were flung through the air, their bones snapping, their screams swallowed by the howling wind. The earth buckled beneath them, yawning chasms swallowing them whole.
In a matter of moments, it was over.
I stood amidst the carnage, my form bathed in the ethereal glow of my power, my gaze fixed on Annette. She stared at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and… gratitude?
"Why?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the wind.
I didn't have an answer. I had acted instinctively, driven by a force I couldn't fully comprehend. But as I met her gaze, I felt a flicker of… warmth… within the cold emptiness that had consumed me for so long.
I stared at her, the echoes of my own destruction ringing in my ears. Why? The question reverberated within me, a challenge to the very foundation of my being.
I had sought chaos, reveled in destruction, believed that power was the only force worth seeking. But in that moment, gazing into her eyes, I saw a different kind of strength—a resilience born of love, a fierce determination to protect what was precious.
And I understood.
The Celestials, with their talk of balance and harmony, had been wrong. The Void, with its endless hunger, had offered no answers. It was she, this fragile mortal, who had shown me the truth.
The words caught in my throat, tangled with a wave of emotion I had never known. I, who had shattered mountains and extinguished stars, now trembled before a human woman, my heart a storm of confusion and… longing.
A single tear escaped, tracing a path down my cheek, a testament to the vulnerability I had never allowed myself to feel.
"Without your existence," I said, my voice a broken whisper, "I would be lost. Alone."
A silence fell between us, broken only by the whisper of the wind through the barren trees. I braced myself for her laughter, her scorn, her fear. But instead, I felt her hand on my cheek, her touch surprisingly warm against my icy skin.
"You are not alone, Yaavin," she said, her voice soft but steady. "You are not lost."
As she spoke, her hand reached out, her fingers closing around mine. A jolt of energy, unlike anything I had ever known, surged through me. It wasn't the raw power of the World Runes, nor the chilling emptiness of the Void. It was… a warmth. A radiance.
And then, my world went dark.
I stood at the edge of a field of golden wheat, the sun warm on my face, the scent of freshly baked bread filling the air. A young Annette, her hair braided with wildflowers, skipped through the wheat, her laughter a melody of pure joy.
She stopped, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and held out a woven basket filled with ripe berries. "Look what I found, Mama!" she called out, her voice clear and bright.
A woman, her face weathered with age but her eyes filled with a love that rivaled the sun's warmth, smiled down at her daughter. "You are a treasure, my little star," she said, her voice gentle and full of pride.
Annette ran into her mother's arms, the basket tumbling to the ground, the berries scattering like jewels amongst the golden wheat. They laughed, their embrace a picture of pure, uncomplicated love.
And in that moment, a longing, an emptiness I had never known, ached within me. It was the emptiness of a heart that had never experienced such warmth, such connection, such… love.
The world returned, a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations swirling back into focus. I looked at Annette, her hand still clasped in mine, her eyes searching my face with a mix of hope and fear. And for the first time in my existence… I understood the meaning of… home.
Her words, spoken with such simple conviction, resonated deep within me, a melody of hope amidst the chaos that had consumed my existence for so long. I looked into her eyes, those brown orbs that seemed to hold the warmth of the sun itself, and for the first time, I felt… seen.
She didn't recoil from the monster I believed myself to be; she saw the loneliness, the pain, the yearning for something more that I had tried so hard to bury beneath layers of destructive fury.
"Come," she said, her hand still resting gently on my cheek. "Let me show you the beauty of this world. Let me show you the strength of creation, the power of love."
I followed her, drawn by a force more powerful than any I had ever encountered.
The weeks that followed were a blur of new sensations, new experiences. Annette's world was small, her life simple, yet it held a richness, a depth that I had never known.
She taught me the rhythm of the seasons, the joy of watching crops grow, the satisfaction of nurturing life. She introduced me to her family, their warmth and laughter a welcome contrast to the cold emptiness I had carried for so long.
I learned the taste of fresh bread, the scent of blooming flowers, the comfort of a shared meal by a crackling fire. And as I watched her, as I felt her love for her family, for her land, for the very fabric of existence, something within me began to shift.
The darkness that had consumed me, the insatiable hunger for destruction, it didn't vanish entirely, but it receded, replaced by a growing sense of… peace.
One evening, as we sat by the fire, the flames casting a warm glow across her face, I confessed, "Your world… it is beautiful. But it is also… fragile. I could destroy it all with a thought."
She smiled, her eyes filled with a knowing light. "Yes," she agreed, "but you choose not to. That is what makes you strong, Yaavin. The ability to control your power, to use it for good instead of destruction."
"Good?" I echoed, the concept still unfamiliar. "What is good?"
"It is the choice to create, to nurture, to protect. It is the choice to love."
I looked at her then, truly *saw* her, and I understood.
Time flowed differently in Annette's world. Days turned into months, and months into years. We married under a sky ablaze with stars, the desert winds whispering blessings upon our union. She was my anchor, my light, my everything.
And then, one day, as we strolled through a bustling marketplace, my gaze fell upon a stall filled with glittering trinkets. Jewels, stones, and metals, polished to a shimmering brilliance, lay displayed on velvet cushions. I had seen countless treasures during my long existence, but these… these held a strange allure.
"What are those?" I asked Annette, my voice a low rumble.
She smiled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Those are jewels, Yaavin," she explained. "They are… gifts. Tokens of affection. Mortals give them to those they… care about."
The concept was unfamiliar, intriguing. I wanted to understand. To feel what these mortals felt.
I gestured towards a jewel, a deep blue stone that seemed to shimmer with a captured starlight. "This one," I said. "I want to give it… to you."
A warmth spread across her face, a blush that rivaled the setting sun. "For me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the clamor of the marketplace.
I nodded, my heart thrumming with an unfamiliar sensation. It was not the thrill of destruction, nor the cold satisfaction of unmaking. It was… something else. Something… warm.
She told me of a land far to the west, a realm where justice and order reigned supreme. Demacia.
"It is a place of strength and honor," she said, her eyes gleaming with a newfound excitement. "A place where we can build a life together, a life free from the shadows of your past."
I hesitated, a flicker of unease stirring within me. "Demacia? I have heard tales of its magic… a magic that repels those who wield power like mine."
She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "It's true," she admitted. "They have something called petricite. It's said to drain magic, to suppress those who wield it recklessly. When I was younger, I traveled there, seeking knowledge of ancient healing arts. I could feel it, Yaavin, a force that pulsed beneath the very earth."
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "If you came to Demacia, the petricite would react to your presence. It would drain your power, perhaps even… change you."
The thought both terrified and intrigued me. Could I truly shed the darkness that clung to me, the legacy of my destructive past? Could I silence the whispers that haunted me, the echoes of those I had consumed?
"Change me?" I echoed, a hint of… hope… creeping into my voice.
Annette nodded, her eyes filled with a love that made my heart ache. "Yes, Yaavin. Change you into the man I know you can be."
We journeyed westward, leaving behind the familiar sands of Shurima. As we approached the borders of Demacia, I could feel the petricite's presence, a subtle hum that resonated deep within my core. It was like a… pressure… against my essence, a force that sought to contain the chaos within me. And for the first time… I welcomed it.
The silver in my hair darkened, my eyes softened, and the chaotic energy that had once radiated from me subsided, replaced by a calm, controlled strength. The runes on my back, once a source of immense power, now felt like… scars. Reminders of the essence I had consumed, the lives I had taken.
I was becoming… less than I once was. And yet… a part of me… a small, fragile part… felt a sense of… relief.
The air of Demacia felt heavy, the very earth pulsing with a magic that both challenged and intrigued me. The petricite, a force unlike any I had encountered before, pressed against my essence, a constant reminder of my restrained power.
But the discomfort was… bearable.
For Annette, for the love that bloomed in the desolate heart of my being, I willingly surrendered to the change. I became a shadow of my former self – the silver in my hair faded to a deep black, my eyes softened, losing their fiery intensity, and the aura of chaos that had once surrounded me dimmed to a mere flicker.
I was no longer Yaavin, the Unmaking. I was… simply a man. A man in love.
We built a life in Demacia, a quiet existence far removed from the battlefields and ruined empires of my past. We found a small cottage on the outskirts of a bustling city, surrounded by rolling hills and fields of golden wheat. The petricite hummed beneath the earth, a constant presence that both challenged and comforted me. It kept the darkness within me at bay, allowing me to taste the sweetness of a life I had never thought possible.
The Demacians, ever vigilant, ever watchful, were slow to trust an outsider. But Annette's love, her unwavering faith in the man I had become, opened their hearts. I embraced their traditions, their values, their unwavering belief in justice and order. I learned to till the land, to mend fences, to share stories and laughter by the hearth fire.
And in time, they accepted me as one of their own.
They presented me with a gift, a symbol of my newfound place within their society. A sword, forged in the heart of Demacia, its blade gleaming with a purity that seemed to banish the shadows that clung to me. I accepted it, not as a weapon of war, but as a symbol of my commitment to this new life, to the love that had anchored me to this world.
It hung upon the wall of our cottage, a silent guardian, a reminder of the darkness I had left behind and the fragile peace I had found.
We were returning from a trip to a nearby village, our wagon laden with supplies for the coming winter, when the accident happened. The horses, startled by a flash of lightning, bolted, the wagon careening off the road and overturning in a tangle of wood and shattered wheels.
I was thrown clear, landing on the soft earth with a grunt. But Annette…
I found her trapped beneath the wreckage, her body twisted at an unnatural angle, her face pale with pain.
"Annette!" I cried, rushing to her side, my heart a thunderclap in my chest.
Panic surged through me, a primal fear I had never known. It wasn't the fear of my own destruction, but the fear of losing her. The carefully constructed walls I had built around my power crumbled under the weight of my desperation.
I would not lose her. Not her. Not my everything.
The magic surged forth, a torrent of raw energy that I could no longer control. The petricite, the very force that had dampened my power, reacted violently, the air crackling with an uncontrolled surge of energy. The earth beneath our feet trembled, trees splintered and ignited, and the very sky seemed to crack under the strain. Then, the petricite around me burst, unable to contain the power I had kept locked up for so long.
But I didn't care.
I ripped the wreckage apart, freeing Annette from its crushing weight. I gathered her in my arms, her fragile form a stark contrast to the chaos I had unleashed. Her breathing was shallow, her eyes closed, her life force flickering like a dying ember.
I channeled the magic, not with the destructive intent I had once embraced, but with a desperate plea, a surge of healing energy that poured into her broken body. I felt her bones knit back together, the wounds closing, the color returning to her face.
She opened her eyes, her gaze meeting mine with a mix of wonder and fear. We were surrounded by the mark of my power. Stardust.
"Yaavin…" she whispered, her voice weak but steady. "What have you done?"
I looked around at the devastation, at the landscape scarred by my power. And in that moment, I knew. I had traded one prison for another. I had chosen love, but the monster within me was not so easily banished.
A figure materialized behind me, his form radiating a power that both awed and terrified me. The man I had encountered during the Rune Wars, his eyes now filled with a knowing sadness.
"Yaavin," he said, his voice a low rumble, "the runes… they could not contain the storm within you. The essence you carry… it has resurfaced." He gestured to the swirling stardust that still lingered in the air, a faint echo of the chaos I had unleashed. "This power… it is unlike anything I have ever seen. It is a force of both creation… and destruction."
I looked at him, then back at Annette, fear now replaced by a desperate plea.
"No," I whispered, the weight of my confession heavier than any mountain. "I'm not Yaavin. Not anymore. I'm… I'm a man who loves. Help me," I begged. "Please… help me control this."
We returned to our cottage, the silence heavy with unspoken anxieties. Annette, her injuries healed but her gaze troubled, sat by the hearth, the firelight casting dancing shadows across her face. Ryze, his blue form radiating an unsettling calm, stood by the window, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon.
I paced restlessly, the magic within me thrumming like a caged beast, my every effort to control it a struggle against a tide I could barely hold back. The petricite, woven into the very foundations of Demacia, pressed against my essence, a constant reminder of my restrained power.
"There is a way," Ryze finally said, his voice breaking the silence. "But I must speak with Annette… alone."
He glanced at me, his eyes filled with a knowing sadness that I couldn't decipher. Annette nodded, her hand reaching out to squeeze mine reassuringly. "It will be alright, Yaavin," she whispered.
They retreated to a small room at the back of the cottage, their voices hushed, their words lost to me. I strained to hear, but only fragments reached me – "…a choice to be made… a price to be paid… the world's fate…"
My heart pounded against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence. What were they discussing? What choice? What price?
I pressed my ear against the door, desperation overriding my usual disdain for such petty acts of eavesdropping.
"…two options," Ryze was saying. "The first… banishment. A painful severance from this world, a return to the void. But with his essence so deeply intertwined with Runeterra's magic… there's a chance he could find a way back. A way fueled by the very power he seeks to destroy."
My breath hitched. Banishment? Oblivion?
A wave of relief washed over me. It was the only logical solution. I was a monster, a threat to this world, to the woman I loved. It was better this way. For her, for everyone, I would willingly surrender to the nothingness.
I didn't hear Annette's response. Ryze's voice continued, low and urgent, but the words were lost to me. It didn't matter. The choice was clear.
I returned to my study and sat. I grabbed a parchment and a quill and began to write, wanting my heart to fill this page with everything Annette had given me. I wanted her to have a little piece of me.
Days later, we stood in a clearing deep within the heart of a petricite forest. The air thrummed with a palpable energy, the very trees seeming to hum with the restrained power of the World Runes.
Ryze, his blue form radiating an otherworldly glow, stood at the center of an intricate rune circle he'd etched into the ground. I stood before him, my heart heavy with a bittersweet sense of acceptance.
Annette, her hand clasped in mine, squeezed gently. "It will be alright," she whispered, but her voice trembled, and her eyes held a sadness that I couldn't understand.
The ritual began. Ryze chanted in a language older than time, his voice weaving intricate patterns of magic. The runes on the ground pulsed with light, and the air crackled with energy.
I felt a pull, a familiar sensation of being unraveled, of returning to the void from whence I came. I closed my eyes, bracing for oblivion.
But then… the pull intensified, a searing agony that ripped through my very core. I opened my eyes, a scream tearing from my lips.
Something was wrong.
This wasn't banishment. This was… annihilation.
Ryze, his face pale with exertion, continued chanting, his voice a desperate plea. But his eyes… they were fixed on Annette, not on me.
It was then that I understood.
"No!" I roared, the power surging within me, the petricite's restraint shattering under the weight of my terror. "Annette, stop! This isn't right! I am the monster, I am the threat! You've done nothing wrong! Don't do this!"
She met my gaze, her eyes filled with a love that transcended my comprehension. "Without your existence," she whispered, her voice trembling but firm, echoing the very words I had spoken to her that fateful night on her farm. "I would be lost. Alone."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't falter. "You deserve a second chance, Yaavin," she whispered, her voice a mix of strength and sorrow. "A chance to know the world… the way I know it. A chance to be… good. To be... loved."
Ryze paused, his gaze meeting Annette's. "The second… is more dangerous. More costly. It requires a sacrifice… a life for a life. I can use the World Runes to fragment his essence, to scatter the pieces across Runeterra. It would be… a temporary solution. The fragments would eventually seek to reunite, but it would buy time. Time for him to… perhaps… find a different path."
The runes flared with an blinding light, the air itself twisting and warping around us. The world seemed to fracture, and I felt my very essence being torn apart.
Three distinct forms coalesced – the sword gifted to me by the Demacians, its blade pulsing with a restrained, almost mournful energy; the jewel I had gifted my wife, its surface dull and gray, yet radiating a latent power that made my blood run cold; and finally, a swirling orb of light and darkness, a miniature cosmos contained within a fragile sphere.
I thrashed against the restraints, my fragmented being in agony. But Ryze's magic, fueled by Annette's sacrifice, held me firm.
As my vision blurred, I saw her approaching the swirling orb, her steps slow but steady, her hand resting on her stomach. A warmth spread outward from her, a familiar sensation that echoed the love we had shared.
Darkness.
Corruption.
Chaos.
Destruction.
Voices.
Screaming.
Cold.
Death.
Regret.
Anger.
Grief.
Desperation.
Tears streamed down her face, and it was then that I saw it – the subtle swell of her belly, the life growing within her. Our child. A testament to the love that had bloomed in the desolate heart of my being. A love that… terrified me. I was a monster, a bringer of chaos. How could I… create something so fragile, so precious?
Warmth.
Meaning.
Love.
Purpose.
She touched the orb gently, her voice a whisper filled with love and sorrow.
"You will not be Yaavin," she said, her gaze meeting mine, her eyes filled with a fierce determination, a love that transcended even my own understanding. "You will be… Ravik. And you will have a second chance."
The world around me faded, the light of her presence dimming to a mere flicker. Despair and grief tore through me. Why, my everything? Why?
Her voice, though fading, continued to echo in my mind.
"When you wake up... Make sure to explore the world. It's time you learn to love Runeterra the way I did. Don't be afraid to open your eyes."
I heard her chuckle, a sound that felt both distant and strangely familiar.
"There you are. You need to remember. You'll come back and forget everything. It's OK. Find others who will be there for you. "
Annette, my everything, I will always love you.
"Remember. You need to save Runeterra…"
Her voice, choked with emotion, faded to a whisper.
"Please… save him… save everyone…"
And then, my essence dissipated, swallowed by the swirling magic that had fragmented me. The world around me went dark.