She heard no response. Cara O’Sullivan…reached out. She looked at the death magic and hesitated. Too afraid to touch it and feel herself dying. That was it. Cara whispered.

“I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t stop it. I tried. I tried to sing. But what can a song do? I tried to play my part, but I didn’t believe it. That’s the only thing. I couldn’t believe in the hero. I failed at acting

because I never bought the part. No experience. I have never had one nor seen one. So how could I ever believe I could save someone?”

Cara gazed ahead blindly.

“No one has ever saved me. In my darkest hours—all that happened was that tomorrow arrived. My heroes turned out to be made of stained glass. I didn’t believe in you being a good man. I should have. I never even told you my real name.”

She didn’t look at him, and she heard nothing. Cara went on, staring at nothing.

“My name is Sidheag. Not Cara. I took the name from someone else in my world. It’s all fake.”

She looked past Dalius. Back the way she had come. Towards the empty town. The sight she would never be able to erase however long she lived. She swallowed.

“…It should all be fake. But Dalius? They died. I saw the undead. I saw the [Necromancer] and I thought he was a good man when I met him at first. There are monsters. I thought my world was worse than yours because we had monsters too. They just wear people’s faces. I thought we had no heroes and that was fine. All we need is law. Law and order and ordinary people doing the right thing even if it’s easier to look away. But here?”

She was shaking. A giant of dead flesh and bone loomed before her. A man raised an army to slaughter the living. A brave man and woman and girl died for no reason. Cara shook with revulsion.

“No one can save them. Not me. Ordinary people can’t slay giants. I need…Afiele needs…”

She turned to him and saw a weary face and two tired eyes. He was watching her. Cara spoke.

“Dalius. If there was a hero in this dark hour, it should be you. Can I…can I believe in you?”

The [Knight] stirred. Ser Dalius looked at Cara. His eyes searched her face, searching for…something.

Perhaps he found it, but he still shook his head.

“I am no hero. I was just a [Knight]. Better men and women than me lie buried here, Cara—Sidheag.”

Cara stared into the tomb. She thought she saw a golden flash. Yet—she looked back and his was brighter, even crossed with the dark magic.

“But they’re not here. Afiele needs someone. And there’s only you and me.”

He opened and closed his hands, helplessly.