“I can handle that,” Arn said. He gestured to one of the chairs at the table he and Thorda had occupied. “Sit your ass down. For at least today, you’re the man of the hour.”

Cyrus did as he was told. The former paragon vanished momentarily into a pantry, a comical sight in and of itself, given how he had to turn sideways to fit, and then he returned holding three bottles in a single meaty fist. He popped the cork off one and set it in the middle of the table.

“I know it was still a bit of a mess, but this is a huge deal,” Arn explained as he poured the wine into one of the glasses Rayan had brought from the kitchen and set between them. “An Imperator has never died during either invasion or occupation. The forty people who died today, they died as martyrs. Their loss will infuriate Thanet, and Magus’s death with simultaneously give them hope. All things considered, I’d say there’s plenty to celebrate.”

“Tell that to the martyrs,” Cyrus muttered.

Arn bit back his next retort, and his cheeks flushed red.

“You’re right,” he said. “Sorry. You spend so much time as a paragon, with every man and woman you know kissing your ass as if you’re half god, and you lose sight of some things.”

“It’s fine,” Cyrus said as he sipped the glass’s contents. “You’re only trying to cheer me up.”

Despite his friend’s attempts, Cyrus could not shake his dour mood. Magus’s taunts echoed in his mind, again and again questioning his understanding of the world.

“Lycaena teaches us that our descendants do not fade away immediately,” Rayan said, having quietly listened to the exchange. “In time, yes, the allures of the beyond will occupy our attention, and we will revel in the paradise fields and crystal streams, but not at first. The dead may still look into the shallow pools and see the world before, and gaze upon their loved ones.” The paladin reached out to pat Cyrus’s hand. “Your parents see you now, young Cyrus. They see you, and they are proud. I know that with all my heart. Do not despair at what you could not accomplish. What you’ve done for your home, and for your people, will be enough. I doubted you once, and spoke those doubts to Thorda. I regret each and every one.”

Cyrus grinned even as he wiped at his face.

“You’re going to make me cry, Rayan. Cut that out.” They shared a laugh. A bit of the horror faded from Cyrus’s mind. Not much, but some. “Did you… did you know my parents well?”