˜”*°•. How long could a man fight fate ? He wished it was only cowardice that held him back. Cowardice would have been simple. Shameful, maybe, but simple. Maybe some part of it was cowardice, buried deep but it was uncertainty, too. He could feel the pull - Light he could -. It was not gentle, it was not a whisper, it was like a grip tightening around his throat. And he knew, somehow he knew, what’d happen the moment he gave in.
Not just of enemies, but of people he cared for. Of people that trusted him, listened to him, only to have their lives ripped away. He wanted to do what’s right . But he knew he’d die too. Death, only slower. One piece at a time, until there was nothing left of Rand al’Thor but a name people remembered with bitterness . Still, it should not matter. Others had sacrificed more. Others had bled, fought, and died for a future they would never see. It was time he made his sacrifice too. ❝ If I start listening to it… ❞ he said quietly, his voice dripping with exhaustion rather than anger, ❝ you won’t like what you see. ❞ For even if he never turned to the darkness, he knew he’d become something much worse. ❝ There are times I don’t know if the thoughts are even mine. ❞ A scoff, and then… silence. His gaze lost somewhere in the distance. ❝ You have always been very close, Moiraine . ❞ The words escaped him plain, void of emotion, more like a fact than a threat. And perhaps that was why they felt like one. He did not move. Did not reach for the Source. Did not so much as lift his hand. Yet something in the room shifted all the same, a thread drawn too tight between them. ❝ I think I will go for a walk. ❞
