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“Cassius. Don’t.” I warn. “I must! I am Cassius Belona, son of Tiberius, son of Julia, brother of Daro, Morning Knight of the Solar Republic and my honor remains!” Then he rushes forward. He is not fast. Not injured and in dead armor. But he is determined, and he is brave, and he is tough, and he is clever, and he daring. He is only things I admire in him in that moment. And none of the things i don’t. He covers his exposed head with his armored arms and runs at me for all he’s worth. I fire methodically. Breathing through my nose. Both eyes open. Like Roan taught me. At first Casius runs through my fire. Then he plows, trudges, stumbles, until the gun is empty and he sways but he does not fall. Not Cassius Al Belona, the tip of his razor wobbles just two finger breaths from my heart. Even though I have made a ruin of him. I cannot tell if he could not kill me or would not kill me. Nor can I tell if he opens his arms to embrace me or if he’s simply teetering forward”

“But the further you are away from it, the more war reads like arithmetic, and past that it reads like fiction, past that it’s just an annoying video on your info stream. How could they possibly imagine the anguish on the faces of the dead? How could the mob in the street demanding handouts ever know on a sensory level that when a human rots, it isn’t just the skin that stinks, but the intestines, the stomach, the liver?”

“Because honor still matters. Honor is what echoes." His father's words. But they are as empty on his lips as they feel in my ears. This was has taken everything from him. I see in his eyes how broken he is. how terribly hard he is trying to be his father's son. If he could, he would choose to be back by the campfire we made in the highlands of the Institute. He would return to the days of glory when life was simple, when friends seemed true. But wishing for the past doesn't clean the blood from either of our hands.”

“It’s just fear, I tell myself. It’s just fear making me panic. And it’s spread through my friends. I see the horror on their faces and see that fear reflected in my own. I cannot be afraid. I’ve spent too long being afraid. Too long being diminished by loss. Too long being everything except what I need to be. And whether I am the Reaper, or whether it’s just another mask, it’s one I must wear, not just for them, but for myself.”