(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

that I surrendered my word and my self to act in your name until your
death."
"My... life is yours... until yours is no more..."
The chill at those words needled into my bones, "But... I can't die."
"That was not known to this one. I surrendered my word to him. I
surrendered myself. Know that there is now nothing left that I may
surrender except my life. Know now that I follow you only so I might die."
"Don't say that, Dak'kon..."
"Is that a command?" he murmured bitterly. Karach rippled and crackled,
like bent steel.
"No! I mean- Dak'kon... you got the Circle from me, correct?"
"Yes. In knowing its words, I knew myself."
"But did it save your life, Dak'kon? Or did it divide you further once you
studied the Circle?"
Dak'kon was silent for a moment, but his blade writhed, as if in pain. He was
slow to speak again, and when he did, his voice was somber. "It divided me."
"Then did I save your life, Dak'kon? Or did I only add to the pain you already
felt? Those words... those words of Zerthimon's - they only seem to divide
you more. I see it when you pour over the teachings."
Dak'kon was silent.
"I say that I NEVER saved you, Dak'kon... I only raised you from near-death
so that you might die again. If you had died at Shra'kt'lor, then you would
have known peace."
His blade bled black as night, but was still. The words came with great effort,
dry and old. "Your words carry the weight of truth. The death I would have
died at Shra'kt'lor - that would have been the last death. Every day I have
lived since is a new death."
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