So why make her try, that little Thress that you shall make sure to never come to be, in your stead? Martyr, for a martyr; no, no, you shall spare her that. This existence – gaze trapped, fixed, unable to look away, from the mess made in your absence, the Mythhaler lost to cities and Ilcavith a ghost to mourn. She does not deserve your thousand year exile within your own broken shells.
(But ████ neithe█r do ██ █you, █any of█ y█ou, d██o you?)
cannot
I don’t █ want ████ to█ hurt██ █ █ I█████ don’t ██ want t█o be afraid███ I never█ wanted this ██I only wanted██ to help, a thousand thoughts a current flowing through you, lucid nightmare. T██hey█ — yo█u██ — I ██ won█’t stop ████ screaming.