It seemed to Elethe that everyone’s emotions were going haywire. There was so much going on it was hard to focus on anything, or even think rationally. Sleep was nearly impossible. The cold certainly didn’t help, and every day it grew colder. Garec’s men were handling things as expected of soldiers, though plenty had lost good friends in the fight. They put on stoic faces and kept moving. It shocked Elethe how easily they were able to hide their emotions, as though shoving them as far away from their conscious minds as possible. Of course, they’d been through rigorous training to do just that, but it was still an impressive and yet sad sight to behold. No one even approached Weynon for help to calm their nerves, though that was no surprise. Everyone wanted to put as little pressure on him as possible.

  One benefit of the battle—if she could call it a benefit—was that there were fewer men and horses to channel Clarine’s Emogic to, letting them speed along for at least two hours before she needed to take a break. The odd effect it had on sound didn’t lift anyone’s spirits anymore; having to speak as loudly and clearly as possible to understand one another had become a nuisance.

  Even Sirona’s spirits had dampened, with her usual vigor and bluntness turned to uncertainty. It struck Elethe harder than she expected, especially after a short conversation during a rest break.

  “I’m worried about the boy,” Sirona said to her. “Both of them, really, but mostly him.”

  Elethe was silent for a moment, partially stunned that Sirona said such a thing to her in the first place.

  “I don’t know what I can do,” Elethe said. “I feel like I’m intruding if I try to talk to Weynon about what happened. He doesn’t seem to want to talk about it.”

  Sirona sighed. “I cannot blame him. He’s been terribly shaken but wants to stay focused on the bigger picture. So much courage in such a young boy. Though, when I look at him… I wish there were more things Compassion could heal than the body.” She deflated in her saddle a little. “Even being able to heal the body I could only save three. I should have been there when it began.”

  Elethe could feel the guilt and shame oozing from her. She searched for words that might help, but everything that came to her sounded childish.

  Why can’t I ever think of the right thing to say? she thought. I’m an Empath, I know exactly what everyone goes through, I should know what to say to help them!

  Garec was the only one who ever knew what needed to be said to get people on their feet. He spoke to Weynon first thing in the morning. Elethe didn’t hear what he said, but whatever it was, it made something about Weynon’s emotions and countenance harden.

  Even still, she could sense that Garec was dealing with spikes of anxiety. Any time he looked at her, or the boys, it was there. How much doubt did he have for their mission? Or was there none, and he was merely overwhelmed with concern for her and the boys’ survival?

  What she’d give to be a Mind Intruder instead of an Empath. She could ask Dowyr to channel for her, and there were plenty opportunities to just use it without asking, though he might cut her off if she spontaneously Matched it. But she was afraid of what she might learn, and so never tried.

  All of these thoughts and emotions were simply a distraction from what her mind kept coming back to.

  Why did they both ask me to save the other?

  At least Weynon had told her his reason, and she could understand it to a degree. She wished she had his same confidence for the fate of her own soul. But Dowyr didn’t say anything about his reasons, and part of her didn’t want to ask. Knowing him as well as she did, she doubted it had anything to do with selflessness. Unless he was simply that loyal to Weynon, which she could believe. He almost never left his side now and looked more concerned about him than anyone, which made it difficult to ask for his reason privately without Matching his Emogic, something she didn’t want to do.

  As the day dragged along, however, the question burned in her mind more and more. She needed to know his reason, perhaps just so she could decide whose was more noble, or sensible, if the time ever came that she had to keep one promise or the other.

  Keeping both was the only acceptable answer regardless. But… if something did go wrong…

  She had to know.

  An opportunity came as Dowyr channeled to Weynon. She reached out and pulled his Emogic into her and Matched it, sending it back and channeling sensory manipulation. He hardly had time to react.

  “I need to ask you something, privately,” she channeled.

  He didn’t cut her off, surprisingly, but she didn’t Match his Emogic for long. A minute later he awkwardly brought his horse up to her and glanced around warily.

  “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” Dowyr channeled.

  “Whatever it was, you probably did,” Elethe said. “This isn’t about that though. It’s about my… promise.”

  He gave her a cautious look. “What about it?”

  She took a deep breath. “Why did you ask me to make it?”

  Dowyr went rigid in his saddle. She couldn’t sense much emotion from him, however. If anything, he felt mildly embarrassed. Why would he be embarrassed?

  “Because if one of us had to die, it’s better that it was me.”

  “Why is it better?”

  He looked away. For a long moment he didn’t answer, and Elethe almost thought he was going to leave, but then he channeled again.

  “Because he’s better. A better person, a better, more powerful Emogician. He’s worth saving.”

  Elethe wanted to retch from heartbreak at the words. How could he say that, and while feeling nothing, as if it was a matter of fact? She tried to stay unphased on the outside.

  “And you’re not?”

  “Exactly. So, now you know. Happy day.”

  He began to turn his horse away.

  “Weynon made me promise to save you.”

  He stopped and looked at her, face blank. “When?”

  “Does it make a difference?”

  “It does if you promised me first. I don’t tolerate takebacks.”

  Elethe scoffed and shook her head in frustration. “What are you gonna do if I take back my promise? It’s not like I can control everything. Either of you could die without me being able to do anything about it.”

  “Your promise isn’t about what you can’t prevent. It’s simple: if you can only save one of us, save Weynon. And if something happens where you save me when you could’ve saved him… I don’t know what I’d do. But I doubt I’d survive the rest of the war.”

  Elethe couldn’t take it anymore and screamed. “Maybe I’ll let you both die!”

  She kicked her horse into a gallop and rushed ahead of the Company. Garec’s voice rang out from behind, calling her name, but she didn’t slow for him. She had to get away from all the noise, all the emotions.

  But there was no getting away.

  *

  Dowyr watched as Garec chased after Elethe. Despite how flat the horizon looked, the land rolled enough for them both to disappear. Donnan kept the Company moving without pause.

  Elethe’s sudden outburst had surprised him. One moment she seemed completely collected, and the next…

  Mood swings, he thought, remembering something he’d once read about women. Just a teenage girl and her weird mood swings, that’s all it is.

  Though now he couldn’t be sure if she would keep her promise. He at least hoped she liked Weynon more than him and kept the promise just by preference. Not that she liked him at all, and best to keep it that way.

  With all the thoughts of promises, he wondered what he would do after the war if they were successful and survived. He liked having some sort of plan for the future, but he’d hardly thought of it beyond the war. There were too many things that could go wrong for him to think there was any point. Still, he tried to entertain the thought that nothing would go wrong from here, and once the war was over, he’d be lauded as a hero, instrumental in ending the war. That’s why Garec had taken him. Surely at the end of it all he’d be given the money and freedom to go wherever and do whatever he wanted.

  An orphanage. He’d go to Arkonia and open an orphanage and do a better job at it than the churches in Elyssanar. He could teach the children signs and be able to know what they were thinking if it seemed like they might be getting into mischief. None would have to feel left out and alone. Yes, that’s what he’d do. It would at least offer some relief for his conscience. Maybe.

  He let his horse fall back to Weynon, who looked to be staring off into the distance, perhaps channeling and communicating with the Earth or some far-off animal.

  “Seen any more wolves?” Dowyr channeled.

  Weynon shook his head, keeping his fixed stare.

  He’d been far less talkative since last night, which was worrying. What was going on in his head? Dowyr could get some idea, if he wanted, but he’d decided to use telepathy as sparingly as possible, judging the morality of using it on friends to be questionable, if not flat-out wrong. Weynon would tell him what he wanted to tell, and that was that.

  Garec and Elethe then reappeared, the latter appearing lost in thought as she found her way back to Sirona’s side. Garec came straight to Dowyr with a face hard enough to crack stone.

  “You’ve made her quite upset,” he said, then turned to Weynon. “Weynon, I would like to speak to Dowyr alone, please. This is only for him to hear.”

  Weynon gave Dowyr a questioning look but nodded and prodded his horse towards Donnan at the head of the Company.

  Garec sighed. “How do you intend to resolve this?”

  “Resolve?” Dowyr channeled, glancing towards Elethe. “I don’t understand. What did she tell you?”

  Garec spoke softly, but Dowyr’s heart began racing all the same. “That is none of your concern. What’s clear is that you’ve caused her nothing but trouble, by means which I’m sure you’re keenly aware of, and I won’t tolerate it any longer. So, I ask again, how do you intend to resolve this?”

  Garec sat there, awaiting an answer. For the first bit, Dowyr could only shake his head in confusion.

  “I don’t know, I don’t… I never meant to cause her trouble, not seriously. If it’s my stupid pranks, then I’ll stop! But if I don’t know how she’s been troubled by me, how am I supposed to know what to do about it? Without knowing it even makes apologizing pointless.”

  “Not pointless. A start. It’s your job to figure out what’s wrong, not mine to tell you.”

  “Elethe never tells me anything.”

  “Have you asked her yet?”

  Dowyr grimaced. There was no getting out of this. “I’ll talk to her.” He glanced at Garec’s hard stare and quickly added, “And apologize.”

  Garec gave a nod of acceptance. “Go do it now, please.”

  Dowyr grunted and urged his horse forward, awkwardly steering between the other soldiers towards Elethe. He wasn’t even remotely sure of what to say, even for an apology.

  Sirona spotted him coming first and touched Elethe’s shoulder, gesturing to him then falling back. Oddly she didn’t even give him the usual sour look. If anything, she looked shockingly sympathetic.

  He came up beside Elethe but couldn’t make himself look at her. “Sorry,” he channeled. It was a start.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Elethe said nothing, merely staring ahead.

  Dowyr still wasn’t sure what exactly he was sorry about. He had meant what he said, and there was nothing that would change his mind about the promise he had her make. It wasn’t as if he hoped she would have to keep it. Even if she did, there was no reason for her to hesitate. She had to hate him, if not for his roguish behavior along the road, then for everything else she knew about him since delving into his mind way back at the Academy. He didn’t care how well she’d been pretending to tolerate his existence.

  “I don’t mean to cause you so much trouble,” he continued, remembering Garec’s words. “If there’s something I need to do or stop doing to help, tell me. I don’t care that you hate me, whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong,” Elethe said softly. “I don’t hate you. Not even a little, much as I’d like to.”

  Dowyr sniffed. “Didn’t Sirona teach you not to lie?”

  “I’m not lying,” Elethe snapped. “And who are you to say anything about lying? You lie all the time about how you’re feeling, even to me when you know I can tell it’s a lie. Everybody does it, like saying it makes it true!”

  “Well what else do you want me to say? That I’m not, in fact, having the time of my life? That I’m terrified for my life and Weynon’s? Is there really a reason for me to spell it out? I already know how I—” Dowyr stopped, realizing he’d been pulled into a pointless argument. He took a calming breath. “I hate this. We have enough enemies to worry about. I don’t care what you think about me, just leave me alone and I’ll leave you alone.”

  He turned his horse away and headed back to Weynon, who had drifted a short distance away from everyone else.

  That might not have been how Garec wanted things resolved, but then he did not think there really was a way to resolve Elethe’s problem. The best he could think of was leaving her alone from now on. And he would; there wasn’t a reason to bother her in the first place. It would have to do.

  Weynon looked to be staring off into space again. Dowyr sighed and channeled, “See something out there?”

  Weynon jumped in his saddle. “No. Just… thinking.”

  “Want to tell me?”

  Weynon remained silent for a moment, then nodded. “Back when Garec took us from the Academy, I had so much hope that I could help stop people from fighting, help stop the war. When we heard about Irostead, I thought… it’s so horrible, Heaven would want us to fight, because Hell must be behind what the Kircans are doing. But then, at the ambush, when I heard their cries for Heaven… I realized it’s not their fault. They must want to be on Heaven’s side as much as we do. I can’t fight them, and I don’t want to let us fight them. But they won’t stop fighting us. I don’t know what to do.”

  Dowyr grimaced, unsure how to respond. He had some suspicions about why Weynon had reacted the way he did during the ambush, but this? Weynon had seen the Kircans as absolute enemies on the side of Hell, and now that illusion was breaking. How did one find the strength to keep fighting if you didn’t see the other side as your enemy? Dowyr almost felt guilty not having that issue. He didn’t like fighting and killing, but the Kircans were their enemies whether they liked it or not.

  Wanting to help Weynon sort out his thoughts, an unusual idea came to him.

  “I want to show you a scene from The Five Sentinels,” he channeled.

  Weynon looked at him in surprise. “Which one?”

  “The battle of the Three Kingdoms, when Heaven first renewed the world. Can I show you?”

  Weynon hesitated, understandably. It was an intense moment in The Five Sentinels.

  “Okay.”

  Dowyr took a deep breath. “Brace yourself.”

  *

  Weynon held his reins tight, waiting for something to happen. For the longest moment, there was only the endless plains of Parasten, but in the blink of an eye it became something entirely different. The chill air became thick and heavy with the scent of smoke, and the sudden heat came near to suffocating. Weynon still sat on his horse with Dowyr beside him, and they were atop a small hill. Pockets of raging fires surrounded them, around which armies fought against each other amidst villages scattered across the land. There were no Emogicians evident among them. It was a time before Emogic, before Hell was sealed away, before the world as Weynon knew it existed at all. Three cities burned in the distance, and beyond them towered Whitewall, the great mountain, a tinge of red in its pale face.

  Weynon was only vaguely familiar with the story. The passages regarding it were difficult to understand, and teachers rarely went over it in detail. It was a simple story, in principle. Hell had roused three kingdom cities against one another, then Heaven stopped it and renewed the world.

  But this… this did not look like a war being stopped. He could hear the death cries and rallying shouts of men all around. Volleys of arrows were firing every which way, and catapults launched pots of oil that were then ignited by a flaming arrow. Unholy screams followed. He saw people fleeing their homes as they became engulfed in flames, only to be cut down. Women, children, none were spared by any side. There was so much chaos that parts of the armies even turned on themselves.

  “Where is Heaven?” Weynon asked, squinting to hold back tears.

  Dowyr glanced at him. “He’s watching from the top of Whitewall.”

  A dark voice boomed out of the ashen sky, shaking the ground and reverberating in Weynon’s head.

  DO YOU UNDERSTAND, NOW? THEY WILL NOT LISTEN TO YOU.

  The armies didn’t even notice the voice, so consumed by the rage of war. Another voice rang out from above, a cry of agony.

  I WON’T LET YOU DO THIS. That must have been Heaven.

  Hell’s voice rang with a laugh that made Weynon wince. IT IS ALREADY DONE. THEY DIE FOR ME.

  I WON’T LET THEM. I WON’T LET ANYONE.

  HOW? FOOLISH BOY. THIS IS THE ETERNAL FATE OF YOUR CREATION. YOU WOULD HAVE TO STOP YOURSELF.

  NO. NOOOO!

  A bright light pierced the sky from the top of Whitewall, beaming upwards then expanding out, enveloping everything, washing it all away until it became nothing, became Nowhere; a realm of endless white in all directions. Weynon looked around, standing on his own feet now, his horse nor Dowyr anywhere to be seen. There only sat a boy in white, arms hugging his legs to his chest, and another boy in black standing over him, glowering. The boy in black turned his head ever so slightly in Weynon’s direction, striking him with the gaze of a single eye. His heart skipped a beat, and then he was back in his saddle, the chill of winter once again seeping into his bones.

  “Why?” Weynon breathed. “Why did you show me that? Heaven didn’t even renew the world.”

  “Yes he did. That’s what happens every time the book mentions him renewing the world. He wipes it away, returning everything to Nowhere before starting over with the world. I showed it to you because it shows even in The Five Sentinels, with Heaven right there, that’s what war is, always has been, and always will be. It’s a reality we have to accept so we know how important it is to stop it. That was hardly the worst of what’s in The Five Sentinels.”

  Weynon stared ahead at nothing. He didn’t want to accept that. Heaven had won in the end, after all. One story about Hell causing that much pain and suffering didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. Heaven knew how to deal with it now, and he was dealing with it, through himself and Garec and the rest of the Company. He had to be.

  “At least the war will be over soon,” Weynon said.

  Dowyr nodded slowly. “What will you do after we win?”

  That was an easy question. “Go home and help my grandma with her garden.”

  Dowyr looked at him curiously. “That’s it?”

  Weynon shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s getting old and needs more help with it, and I like spending time with her.” Though perhaps that was more to do with how many treats she baked for him. “What about you?”

  *

  Garec kept a sharp eye on his surroundings as he rode beside Donnan, despite the lieutenant being able to scout the land from an aerial view. As with the rest of Parasten, there was little to see. A mass of low rolling hills, scattered shrubs and barren trees, and dozens of shallow rivers, streams, and ponds, most of which had frozen. The days were only getting colder. It worried him. There was little time left to find the Tyrdens and kill them before winter would halt the Company in its tracks. Perhaps they could hide among the Parastenians until Spring came, but that was not a risk he was willing to take.

  Why did I bring us out here?

  That nagging thought came back again. It had plagued him since leaving Fort Calhoun, and there was no getting rid of it. Not a thought from anything Hell had said to him while channeling, but the bastard certainly fed it. This was no place for his troubled niece, or two children. At the time, it seemed expedient to move into Parasten even with winter just beginning. There weren’t any reports of Kircan activity near the front, so Parastenian villages should’ve been completely vacant of any soldiers. Had Elyssanar even been paying attention to what was happening to the Parastenians outside of the events in Irostead?

  No, no use thinking over how things had gone. Even despite encountering fights, they were still on the right track, and that’s all that mattered. If worst came to worst, he would at least ensure that the children and as many of his men as possible would survive.

  A memory of Hell’s voice came. You won’t ever get to see your child.

  SHUT UP, he told it.

  Hell couldn’t speak to him without channeling, but his voice still rang in his mind as if he could. It was enough to drive a man mad. Many people believed that the mere fact Hell spoke to people who channeled Indifference meant they were destined to turn evil. How could one not, when so directly influenced by evil incarnate? Yet those who knew Garec before his Apex wouldn’t believe such a thing possible for himself. Nor many of those who came to know him after his Apex, primarily Donnan and the rest of the Company. To them, they served a good Captain and a friend, nothing more. He was proud to be their Captain, but a growing sense of isolation festered in the back of his mind.

  Why did I bring us out here?

  Shaking his head, he turned to Donnan. “Can you see Norwood yet?”

  Donnan closed his eyes and went still. A moment later he shook his head. “Not yet. Probably won’t until tomorrow afternoon, I suspect, assuming the lad was right about the distance. Plenty of Parastenian villages though.”

  “We’re not risking more villages than necessary.”

  “Never said we should. Are ye alright, Garec? Ye’ve been more tense in the shoulders since we left the Fort.”

  “I’m fine,” Garec lied.

  “Well just holler should ye be needing a good shoulder massage, aye?”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Garec looked back at Dowyr and Weynon. He was glad Weynon looked to be doing better. His talk with the boy had been short, perhaps too short, but there were only so many words for what he had to say, and he liked it simple. Weynon seemed to take them to heart. It would help.

  Dowyr, on the other hand, worried him more than he expected. Particularly in the case of his relationship with Elethe. Garec knew it wasn’t his fault, really. The battles, the cold, their whole situation, it understandably put a massive amount of pressure on Elethe. As long as Dowyr apologized and kept from adding more pressure onto her, things should be okay. If not, he considered keeping them forced apart. At least for now it seemed unnecessary. He would wait and see. Elethe wouldn’t do anything rash without provocation. But how little provocation was needed? Maybe it was too big of a risk to wait and see.

  This is absurd, he thought, scowling at himself. There was no point in mulling it over. Elethe was becoming a grown woman. She could deal with it on her own. Perhaps Sirona would keep her in line anyway.

  The woman herself appeared by his side as if the thought of her name had summoned her. She wore a grim face, or at least grimmer than usual. Sirona always seemed grim to Garec, even when she was in a pleasant mood. It was such an odd contrast to her half-brother Donnan, who she now glared at as though to dismiss him. Whatever she had to say, it must have only concerned Garec himself, so he waved a dismissive hand at him. The big man huffed and let his horse fall back.

  Sirona waited until well after Donnan had gone out of hearing range. She almost looked nervous. That couldn’t have been good, if true. Garec decided it must be something else; frogs would grow wings before Sirona was ever nervous.

  “What did you say to the girl?” Sirona asked as if making idle conversation.

  Garec gave her a sidelong glance. “Why do you want to know?”

  “To understand how to fix whatever you’ve mucked up. Elethe obviously isn’t any better for it. She needs real help.”

  Anger flared up inside him. Elethe was his niece, not Sirona’s. She had no business in the matter, and to blatantly imply his help was worthless to his face! Yet he made himself shove the anger down and pull back from the situation. If there was anything he’d learned as a leader, it was to listen to those who brought problems to his attention and to take them seriously. This was one such time to do so. He turned to Sirona, keeping his face straight.

  “I told Elethe to ask herself if it was worth it, and that I would deal with Dowyr.”

  Sirona waited as if there would be more to the answer, but in all truth there wasn’t. Elethe had tried to argue, but he had only repeated himself until she gave up.

  “The poor girl is in love,” Sirona said.

  Garec’s eyes widened. “What?”

  Sirona gave an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know how it could be more obvious. You said you’d deal with Dowyr? Wonderful, except there’s nothing you can do short of leaving him behind. And on top of that Elethe is suffering through this war and all the emotions it entails. What did you think would happen? She doesn’t need a pep talk. She needs someone who loves her, and that boy is obviously in no condition to be that someone.”

  Garec stared at her in bewilderment. Elethe was in love with Dowyr? When had that happened? It seemed to him that she had only been frustrated and annoyed by him. Although, in his own experience, such feelings did not exclude love from the mix. But he had thought whatever positive interactions they had was simply the existence of an odd, if strained, friendship, especially considering what Elethe knew about the boy.

  He shook himself, remembering the last thing Sirona had said. Now it was clear what her intentions were in bringing this up, and he had to admit to himself that she was in the right.

  “I really have mucked it up,” he muttered. He half expected Sirona to make a self-satisfied look, but if anything, her face had a touch of sympathy in it.

  “I can’t give her the help she needs either,” she said softly.

  Garec nodded, and without a word, prodded his horse back into the Company’s ranks to find Elethe.

  He found her all the way at the rear, lagging behind the rest of the soldiers. One of his officers appeared to be keeping an eye on her in case she tried running off again. The officer gave a nod to Garec, which he returned before stopping in front of Elethe. Her eyes were downcast, and it took her a moment before realizing he was even there. Once she did, he dismounted.

  “What?” she demanded with a frown.

  “Come down,” he said.

  Her frown deepened, but she swung off the saddle and gave her horse an assuring pat on the neck before walking up to him.

  “Is something—?”

  Before she could finish the question, Garec stepped forward and embraced her gently. “I understand what you’re going through.”

  That was all he said. For a few short seconds, Elethe stood as stiff as a board, then melted in his arms. He softly brushed her hair as she began to shake and sob into his chest. There was no telling how much time passed until Elethe spoke.

  “I hate this,” she said.

  Garec sighed. “I know.”

  “I’m so tired. I didn’t want to believe or accept how I felt. I thought it would go away. I wanted it to, but it only got worse. And all he thinks is that I hate him. I wish I could.” Elethe looked up at him. “How much longer do I have to feel like this?”

  “I don’t know. We can never choose how we feel or for how long. But we can choose what to do about it.” He felt at the letter in his coat pocket. “If you want to go home… I can have Boughton fly you back.”

  Elethe pulled away, wide-eyed. “You’d let me go?”

  “You’d be safe. Away from all this and from him.”

  Garec felt a stab of anxiety as Elethe appeared to think on the offer. He didn’t want to let her go. Clarine would stop being of any use, and without the two of them, there was a much higher chance that his mission would fail. Yet he shoved the emotion down, not wanting her to sense it and let it influence her decision. It was hers to make.

  “No,” she said, then shook her head. “No, I said I would come with you, and I’m not going back on that. I want this war over. I just wish it wasn’t so hard.”

  Garec restrained himself from sighing with relief. “So do I. And I promise that if you ever change your mind, I’ll let you go. But thank you. I hope to make it as easy as possible from here on. No more fighting. We can’t afford it.”

  “What do you plan to do?”

  “I’ve been thinking that maybe having the whole Company with us is a mistake. We can be faster with fewer people, so I think I’ll send them back to Leife. Everyone except the essential Emogicians. It’s safer than returning home or coming with us, at least, and I’m sure Elan would appreciate the extra men around. It’ll be easier for you to channel Clarine’s Emogic too. Once we know where the Tyrdens are, we can reach them faster than they’ll have time to react. Then we can all go home.”

  Home. The word sounded strange in his mind. Would he be able to go home? After traveling all the way out here, home was such a distant memory that it may as well not have existed. If only he had become a Regret Emogician so he could see the future and know exactly what needed to be done to kill the Tyrdens without issue, if only his one regret had done that for him…