The memory of those months is never far removed, full of teeth and darkness and pain and fear and loss. He resolutely keeps it off of his face, doesn't allow one iota of those relentless screams to show, but the chill of it wraps around his bones and bites.

"If you're so certain, then why do you bother? If I am so lost to your righteous ways? Or do you just want me kept where you can see me, make sure the corruption isn't spreading?" He dredges up memories of meetings between clan leaders, when pride spoke before kindness, and spits that fire back out.