Cyrus thought of the worship on the stranger’s face, of the way he had smeared the blood across his forehead into a crown he bore with pride.

“Yes,” Cyrus said. “I must know the story of the man whose mask I wear, and whose footsteps I follow.”

Thorda breathed in deep and then slowly let it out.

“Though the Everlorn Empire surrounded my homeland of Miquo on all sides, they could not cross the Vermell Mountains into our divine forests without catastrophic death. They tried once. We collapsed walkways and buried thousands beneath avalanches. So we were left alone, a little thorn in the empire’s side, but even the most optimistic among us feared it was only a matter of time until we fell. I believed we should act while the advantage remained ours. That is what I told myself, to justify my plans.

“For hundreds of years, we Miquoans squabbled with our neighboring country of Antiev. Their gods were not our gods, their traditions not our traditions, their homes earthbound instead of high up amid the branches. With that in mind, I visited the God-Incarnate in Eldrid and offered him a deal. Promise our little nation of Miquo independence, and I would aid in his invasion of Antiev. He agreed, and so I whispered secrets our people had learned over centuries of conflict, where Antiev’s mighty warriors laid out their ambushes, where they smuggled supplies, and where they hid among their tunnels and caves. A campaign that might take years ended in mere weeks. Antiev fell, our longtime enemy conquered, and her gods slain. And I celebrated.”

Thorda’s hands shook as he clutched the skull hard enough, it seemed he tried, and failed, to crush it within his grasp.

“You can guess what happened next. Every promise, every agreement, every treaty… they were all lies. No piece of paper will hold back the divine, for what court may rule against a god? Once Antiev fell, Lucavi turned his greedy eyes to the people of Miquo. He would have our faith. He would murder our gods. His armies gathered, tens of thousands of soldiers and a whole host of paragons, and this time they need not cross the Vermell. They launched their campaign from Antiev, our fallen neighbor, and marched straight into our forests. So began the invasion, and this time, we could not stop it. I’m sure you can imagine what that was like.”

A memory of burning fleets and smoke encompassing the entire harbor came unwelcome to Cyrus. Yes, he very much did.