You think only of atonement. [ That’s not a question. Neither is it an accusation—after all, he can relate. There are plenty of other memories beyond Iseult that haunt him, swallowing him up like the thorns are doing to this castle and even to this cramped and dusty stairwell.

He sheathes his sword at last, putting it away in favor of his harp now that Pyra’s handling the thorns herself. In any case, Failnaught’s useful enough even in close quarters, and if they’re going someplace high above, well…he’d best prepare for the worst. ]

I do not think that anything I ask in return can take away the burden of your guilt. That sort of feeling…

[ He presses a hand over his heart. ]

It cuts deep. Deeper than any mortal wound.