Please! Please, don't leave me! I beg of you, I'll do anything; just don't leave me here alone! …Why? How could you do this to me? But I loved you! Didn't we say back then that we'd work hard to get married, and live the rest of our lives together? It's not true… It can't be true. It must be some kind of mistake, I must be seeing things. We were going to spend our wedding night by the sea, along the riviera. We were going to make reservations, and even rent a carriage… I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think anymore. Was all of it in vain?

You will do as you're told, and exactly as I say. And if you don't, there will be consequences. Understood? Should you choose to defy me, rest assured you will surely regret it. …I am a prisoner in my own house. I entered a loveless marriage arranged against my own volition. The man I call my husband is a tyrant who only loves himself. I am only a wife in name, and our relationship exists on paper. I cannot go anywhere without that man's permission, and when I am allowed outside I am followed by escorts. Everything I eat, wear, say, and do is dictated by him. The only thing I have that belongs to me are my tears. My family was in debt–far more than we were able to repay. Instead of marrying rich, I was essentially forced into a marital contract. As I stand on the edge of the balcony, I wonder how long I can maintain this mockery of a marriage.

I see no hope. I see no way out. From the depths of my heart I cry out, hoping somebody somewhere can hear me. Please, someone…make this pain go away. SAVE ME.

It was happening again. When she had left her world and entered this one, Shiloh had lost most of the power that she had. Everything had been wiped clean, like a fresh slate and she had forgotten. As time went by, slowly but surely it began to seep back in, returning to her. These memories were not hers, but she knew where they had come from. Although she herself had not experienced them, she could feel every emotion and all the pain. When she was out in the wilderness or in cities like Vilpamolan and Adeluna, they had not surfaced. But when she passed through Egjora, she began to hear them.

It started with the whispers. When she set foot in the city, the place appeared to be more clean and orderly than Adeluna. Everyone was civil and courteous, and welcomed visitors. But deep down she couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply and terribly wrong. On the surface the city and duchy seemed well-organized and prosperous, but as time passed things started leaking through the cracks in the facade. The atmosphere was stifling, even more so than a sealed storeroom. It felt stale to the point of being unbearably suffocating. The air was rife with discontent, lingering like the stench of smoke. They might be smiling on the outside, but she could see it in their eyes. Hate, injustice, despair, hopelessness. It was overpowering, and Shiloh could no longer bear it. 

One night, she woke up with her blanket drenched in sweat and her fingers clawing into the ground with dirt underneath the nails. How could she have forgotten? The days she had spent in Canelux up until that moment had been taken for granted. There was a time when she had taken it upon herself to ease the hearts of the downtrodden by relieving them of the burden of their suffering. By taking their sorrow, their anger, their anguish, she freed them from those thoughts and took them within herself. Over time, the burdens she accumulated grew and it began to take its toll on her body. It took all that she had to keep herself from being consumed. And now…it was back with a vengeance. 

This was why she was here. As she ascended the mountain, the chill dulled her senses to make it almost bearable. From what she had learned about the religion of this world, this was the place for those who sought guidance and whose hearts were troubled. She needed answers, someone to talk to. If she kept them inside any longer, she felt like she would explode.

From his hovering throne he felt a pulse. It was unlike anything he’d experienced so far in his temple and it was so heavy that he was drawn from his meditation. There were a few people knelt near the altar, their heads bent in prayer. Soft glows resonated from them, some light pastels, other harsh neons, but all of them gradually leading towards gold. They were focused, healthy, at peace. So, what was this? His eyes lifted to Kagayaki, his light elemental that stayed guarding at the inside arch of the door. He nodded to him before flickering out of his black tourmaline seat only to reappear in his and Echo’s bed chambers.

Torinasu was waiting there for him with the rest of his weaponry, and he took it up quickly. An immediate electric shock surged through him with such force that his fingers gripped tightly from mere reaction. What was that?! Something was so horribly negative that he had enough energy in his blade to power a household should it all be converted to light. Had he not known better, he would have believed a pilgrimage had arrived at his doorstep. Yet there was no commotion on the grounds, nothing stirring. Suspicious…

Travelling through light, he brought himself to the entrance of Suisho no Kyuden and stared skeptically at the closed doors.  Someone was coming, possibly multiple people in great number. Hopefully there would be no danger, and he opened the doors just enough to move out of them. The sharp cold of the air comforted him, sending a new shock to his system as he slowly walked through the snow. He didn’t need to go far though before seeing the source.

It was a young woman, but what got his attention the most was how thick and apparent her aura was. Anyone with the sight would have been able to see it even without concentration, and she appeared to be more of a walking shadow: a black smudge against the otherwise white surroundings. Who was she…? Still he felt no danger coming off of her, and Torinasu was drawn to her with undeniable magnetism. Well no wonder she was venturing to his temple…

He went to her quickly, worry overtaking his skepticism, “You there, are you all right?” His emerald eyes were wide, shining brightly as he gave her a quick once over, “Do you need assistance into the temple…?” And most importantly, what in the world had brought her to this dangerous state? All this and more he would ask in time, but for now he was focusing on getting her somewhere safe where she could rest.

When the deity found her, Shiloh looked exhausted and haggard. However, it wasn't the harsh weather or difficult ascent up the mountain that had caused this. Her head was pounding, and it was interfering with her senses. The strain of the emotional burden had drowned out the normal influx of information from her eyes and ears, and was draining her strength. She had been separated from it for too long, and was forced to relearn how to cope with the excruciating pain. It felt like there were thorny vines underneath her skin. Each step only reasserted its presence, and as time went by it continued to creep further in. She could feel the negative emotions of those she had extracted them from crawling on her back. Her entire left arm was already nearly numb, and the blackness stretched its tendrils inward, reaching towards her heart.

It was hard to breathe, especially on the hike up the steps. If she had not been under stress, she would have stopped to admire the crystalline trees and her surroundings. In her current state she was fortunate that she could still focus on what was in front of her, as her peripheral senses were already being blocked from the agony. There was bile burning in her throat, and her forehead had stopped breaking out in cold sweat. Forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other through sheer willpower, she breathed heavily through clenched teeth. Once she was at the summit, her breathing slowed. It was still labored, but the headache was starting to lessen around her temples. She didn't notice or even hear Naota approach her until he spoke up. The cries of pain from negative fragments of others' psyches made it hard to hear. She had taken the burdens of at least a two dozen people back in her world, from the stings of betrayal to the untimely loss of loved ones.

Hearing a voice, she turned to face him. "I came here…to seek guidance…" Straining her eyes, she committed his appearance to memory. His hair was brown, his eyes were a peculiar shade of green. He looked rather young, and they were the same height. The most striking thing were those markings of his–they seemed to be glowing. She would have continued that train of thought if the pain wasn't distracting her from thinking. Looking past the open doors, she asked slowly. "…This is the shining temple–isn't it?" At the moment more descriptive words failed her, limiting her responses to something more laconic and terse. Her vision was fading in and out, but she willed herself to stay conscious. She was on a mountain, she reminded herself. No matter how hardy she was a tumble from this height would lead to certain death.

 

She was in so much pain, he could take it no longer and went to her. His hands gently rested on her shoulders to aid in giving her stability, but the moment his hands connected with her he felt his muscles tense. The pain was incredible and he suppressed a grimace, managing to keep a smile edged with discomfort, but real nonetheless. Well, that was certainly one way to describe his home. He nodded to her, “Yes, you’ve made it to the right place. Right now I’m going to bring you inside to the warmth…” His eyes searched her, the excruciation near palpable, “We’ll start from there.”

With that he moved both of them through rays of light until they were in the warm safety of the sapphire room. It was more private here, most visitors stopped by this area if they need to first gather themselves. The blue flamed fire gently crackled and he helped her to a soft deep couch. He knelt on the floor next to her, eyes scanning her before untying Torinasu from his hip and nudging it into her fingers if he could, “Grip onto this, it will help some.” Should she take it, it would sap a great deal of negativity from her, enough at least for the pain to subside for a short while so that they could work on fixing this issue.

“Where in the world have you come from? You seem as if you’ve suffered a thousand deaths.” He stood up, leaving his blade there with her should she decide to keep it held, and moved to one of the walls. A rarity that not many got, only a few chosen sets of hands had held that weapon. His palms rested on the sapphire adornments and he closed his eyes, sending his energy into the crystal work to charge them and help bring a soothing calm to the room. When he opened his eyes they were softly glowing brighter, and he moved back to her side, though he stayed knelt on the floor to give her breathing room.

“What is your name…?”

Taking the sword into her hands, she leaned on it. She grasped the hilt so tightly that her knuckles were white, but she felt a sense of relief wash over her. As she did so, the blade itself reacted strongly as it surged with energy converted from what it had sapped from her. There was still a great deal of pain weighing upon her, but she could now focus with more clarity. The room she was in was calm, radiating with peace. It was as if a cooling salve had been applied to an old open wound and her breathing stabilized. The interior was as if it had been carved out of a deep blue carbuncle and for once such a color did not invoke a feeling of melancholy. In here, her soul was at rest.

At his mention of suffering a thousand deaths, she cracked a wry smile. "Not quite, though I'd say the number would be nearing the hundreds. It seems death likes to play coy with me, teasing me with life-or-death situations before cutting the rope at the last moment. I've been very unlucky. Perhaps that's why I've managed to live this long." Leaning back against the couch, she held onto the black blade with her left hand. "I am an outsider. I entered this world by the machinations of fortune, when I should have exhaled my final breath. The name is of no importance, only that it isn't anything like this one. It was during my final execution when I was displaced and thrown here." Shiloh then paused, contemplating how much more she should disclose. Continuing again, she spoke in a firm and clear voice.

"My name is Shiloh Kyrie. I arrived in Vilpamolan in a chained coffin. I believe there is no need to explain it further, as you can infer what was supposed to happen. You're probably wondering why someone like me would be carrying the weight of others' burdens. It's somewhat complicated, but I'm sure you have time to listen." Her voice trailed off as she recounted the beginning of the myth of the phantom who consumed shadows.

Once upon a time, there was a young woman who lived with her father. Her mother had died when she was but a girl, and her father had never remarried. They ran a modest estate, but when times grew tough and harvests failed the father was forced to borrow money to keep them afloat. Unfortunately the next following years continued the bad harvests, and soon they were unable to repay. It was then when the father and daughter were faced with a decision: sell their land to pay their debts and lose everything, or have the daughter take the offer of marrying a young lord in exchange for payment of their debts. The father was against it; he implored his daughter not to take the offer. Even if they had no land or home, they would still have each other. They could always find another way to pay off what they owed. But seeing that her father was getting along in years, the daughter could not bear to see him suffer. So she went against her conscience, and sold herself in exchange for her family's estate.

There was no love in that marriage. The man she wed was a cold and self-absorbed aristocrat. From the first day after their marriage she was forced to abide by a set of rules imposed by her husband. She was not allowed to move about freely, and could only leave the house with his permission. Every aspect of her life was controlled by his whims and executed by the servants, from what she wore to what she ate. Her friends and father were not allowed to see her, and it was no better than imprisonment in luxury. No matter how she tried to please him, she was met with coldness. Soon her long-suffering kindness wore out, and she fell into despair. She lost the will to eat, the will to live. After nearly tumbling from the balcony her servants were ordered to keep a close watch over her for her health's sake. There were times when in the darkness of despair, she contemplated taking her own life. One night after attending a gala with her husband, she knelt before an open window in her room and prayed. Shedding bitter tears she begged for anyone, anything who could hear her plea to rescue her from her golden cage. As the tears ran down face and onto her neck, she promised to give anything for a chance to escape.

Lo and behold, someone had heard the cry of her heart and in the night's silence a voice replied: 'You say are willing give anything for your freedom…is that right?'

Startled, she was taken aback by a shadowy silhouette before her. As she stared in shock the voice continued. 'The price of freedom is high. If you wish to gain anything, you in turn must give everything. So are the terms of my contract. Will you accept, or will you deny? The choice is yours.'

Though the figure before her was unearthly and sinister, she reached up and took its hand and whispered the words. "…I accept." In the twinkling of an eye, a fierce gale blasted the house–beating against the walls as if to tear it asunder. The servants were thrown into a panic and it was as if the entire foundation of the building was being shaken apart. In the dark of the night the woman watched as a grin spread across its face and the moon obscured by the clouds came into full view. 'You have chosen liberty, thus it shall be so. In exchange for everything you will be given a second chance in life. Listen now to my words, take heed and burn them into your memory. If you truly desire freedom, then you must do as I instruct you or all your actions will be in vain. You must cut all ties to your husband and have him release you out of his own will. Only when your bonds of marriage are broken will you be able to fly free.' 

The woman in turn responded: "How can this be done? There is no way for me to convince him. His heart is colder than ice and more unfeeling than stone. None of my sweet words or tears can move his hand in my favor." 'That is where you are wrong, milady. You need not waste such heartfelt sentiment over him. Rather, you must go with boldness and declare your own will of separation. If he will not give heed when you ask of him, then you must demand it. I will do my part in seeing that all comes to fruition. However when you declare your independence, you must refuse to take a single coin that belongs to him. Abandon everything that does not belong to you, and only take what you had before you became his wife. This is the first step to your freedom. Do this, and perhaps you will see a miracle.'

And so the woman obeyed the phantom's instructions and requested an audience with the lord. She declared her desire to break off her marriage with him and relinquish her position as his wife. When the man questioned her she felt her heart falter, but when she saw a glimpse of the phantom in the corner of the window she regained her resolve. For the first time in her life under that man's roof, she gave her demands. She declared the marriage be annulled and that she did not want a single penny in compensation. The debts of her father's estate had been paid in exchange for her marriage to him, and now that had been fulfilled there was no reason for her to continue any longer. Her husband denied her, and she was taken out of his sight by the guards. However as she was ushered out of the room she saw the phantom smile as it reached its hand to the glass. A week after being confined to her room, she overheard whispers from the servants.

On the day she had demanded her freedom, her husband's closest guards discovered a rusty knife embedded in the mantel of the study's fireplace bearing a note in ink of crimson red, penned by an unknown hand. The details of the letter were not disclosed, but they believed it was the work of a vengeful spirit out for blood. Later she was called in by her husband, who chose to concede to her demands. During her confinement strange things had been happening around the lord that forced his hand to sign the marriage annulment. In the presence of a magistrate and other witnesses, their union was legally dissolved. As the phantom had instructed, she took the things she had brought with her upon first entering that house and left. But before she reached the outskirts of town, the phantom visited her again. She thanked it for granting her wish and giving her freedom, yet the shadow told her it was not yet finished with its work. 'You have completed the first two steps, yet there is one more thing you must do. Your husband will renege on his promise, and will no doubt send men after you. To truly sever the last remaining link between you and him, you must give up your name.'

It asked of her a hard thing, and she resisted. The phantom spoke to her softly, reminding her that this was the price for being freed from that man's intentions, and that once this was done she would receive the new life she had asked for. 'In your marriage you had given your birth name, thus you can no longer use that name for yourself. You can choose for yourself a new name, any one you like. This new name will be the start of your new self and your new life…' 

As Shiloh concluded the story, she set the tourmaline blade against the couch. "Before the woman left with her new name, the phantom took its payment by taking all the grief and suffering she had endured in her marriage to that man. In an act of goodwill for the completion of their contract, the phantom foiled and harried the lord's men at every turn until they relented, allowing the woman to live in peace. Every sting and pain I feel from these shadows are borne from grief that they would have carried for a lifetime. Looking back on the things I have done, I have begun to wonder if I was truly helping them or performing acts of charity for my own selfish desires."

His eyes studied her face as she spoke, his own expression unchanging as he listened. And while it appeared that the most obvious answer was this story being her own, it was nearly impossible to believe. Her story, all that she had gone through if the woman in it was in fact her, was horrible. Over the course of his life, through every trial and tribulation others had confided in him, he thought that by now he’d heard it all. No, he was wrong. His fingers moved, gently taking Torinasu and slowly tying it at his hip once more, his eyes staying on hers all the while,

“It is a great burden to bear, taking on the horrors of others. For selfish desires or otherwise, you at least need to commend yourself for that good deed.” His thumb ran along the hilt of his blade as if it were some sleeping and content animal curled at his side, “I don’t pretend to understand what you have gone through, but I can relate to heavy weight on your shoulders…” His eyes softened, keeping himself knelt on the floor so that she could keep the place of power in their seating,

“I have a story of my own, about a man facing a very different set of horrors. Another time though.” He shifted back, sitting with ankles crossed on the floor as he looked up at her, “Shiloh,” his voice was soft as the syllables left his lips, “I’m very glad that you chose to come here. Now then,” his elbows rested on his knees and he plopped his chin between his hands, “Let’s see what we can do about some of this weight. Here.”

He straightened again and held his hands out, palms facing up, “I want you to rest your hands over mine, just enough for our skin to touch, all right…?” His eyes searched hers, not wanting to push certain boundaries too far so soon. Even now with his hands offered, he was careful not to so much as brush her knees with them, “We’re going to try something, all I ask is that you trust me. Can you find it in yourself to trust me?” His voice stayed soft, the emerald hue of his eyes shining brighter with a look that was nothing less than paternal. Since the birth of his children that gaze had started to overcome all of his expressions.

Shiloh listened as the deity explained what he was planning to do. It would seem that he wanted to help her with the grief she had siphoned from many others. However, she couldn't make heads or tails of what exactly. How would he intend to do this? If this involved direct contact, then that must mean… She was hesitant as she thought about it. Was he really sure about what he was doing? Shiloh realized what would happen if she did as he asked. As soon as they made contact, without the force of her restraint the pain and suffering she had consumed would transfer over as if there were an invisible conduit. She had carried this burden for many years, and had struggled with it each and every day. Would he be prepared to feel the multitudes of potential lifetimes of agony? She stopped herself in her thoughts and chastised herself. What was she doing, worrying about a deity? This was the entire reason why she had come here. She had come here to relieve her own emotional burdens, not contemplate those of the immortal.

With no further reservations, she held out her hands and lowered them, until they made contact with him. In that instant, the floodgates were opened and the fragments of psyche jumped over to the deity like a pack of ravenous wolves ready to feast on a fallen animal. The temporary link that had been established through their direct contact caused some of her most recent memories to bleed into the other's mind while the channel was active. An image of the nightmare she had in Egjora resurfaced, showing a fairy tale book illustration rendition of the city that morphed into a sinister caricature with twisted, grinning figures looming over the walls controlling the suffering citizens with puppet strings. The guards of the city changed from typical armored men into anthropomorphic dogs with golden chains as their leashes, being pulled this way and that by the villainous faces above. The blue sky and clean streets turned into a sky red as blood with a black sun while the city burned and fell into disrepair.

Then, the first memories she had before entering this world reemerged. It came by in flashes, short scenes as she had remembered them. Shackles, a noose, being held underwater, being thrown into a lake with stones tied to the legs, imprisonment, a guillotine, and the executioner's axe. Then a jury rigged trial, the courtroom, a group of hooded and cloaked elders looking down from their seats at her. Voices of accusation, teeth bared in anger, fingers jabbing forward in outrage. Her hands were chained, shoved forward by the guard. The harsh sunlight blinding into her eyes as the sound of metal hitting dirt continued. The pit, the coffin, the cloaked elders watching from behind. A click of the manacles falling away and a forceful push sending her hurtling into the wooden box.The lid came down, the clanking of the chains as they wrapped it around. The final clasp of the lock. She could hear her own screaming, her nails clawing at the wooden planks. Crying, pleading, begging, shouting–all for a chance at release. The sound of the first shovel of dirt landing on the coffin marked the point when her arms had fallen to her sides. A great and terrible despair came forth and consumed her being.

This and many more memories, some hers and some of others were mixed together as all of this took place within the sapphire room. On the outside, she clenched her teeth as she once again experienced the emotional turbulence.

As her hands moved over his he prepared himself. Only when the last of her fingers rested on his did he close his eyes. He was urged to grip her wrists but refrained from doing so, though his jaw locked ever so slightly. There was so much pain, so much chaos, and he could feel all of it trying to pour into him as if touch alone was enough to conduct it through. Just as the shadows of memory began to creep into his mind, long tendrils of light bound his hands to hers. They led out from the white markings on his skin and finally he felt the powerful thud of his heart begin to calm.

How long had it been pounding? His chest physically ached from it and the relief was so stark in his muscles that he had to suppress a groan. The light wrapped tighter around their hands, spreading up their wrists, along their arms towards their shoulders, until their combined energy started to gradually even out. Curiosity piqued within him to explore some of those memories. Curiosity wasn’t the proper word, more, he wanted to learn them so he could understand what this plague was. Were that story true, and if it did in fact pertain to her, then it seemed like a cruel payment for freedom.

His lips silently moved, Torinasu buzzing with energy nearby, bringing in the negativity from their contact and transmuting it to positive influence. The effects would not be permanent, but at least she would be allotted some peace for a short time. Unfortunately, there would be much more to learn in order to give her permanent release, but then he wasn’t sure if she even wanted to be rid of it. There was much more to learn, and he slowly opened his eyes, but did not move his hands from hers.

Energy visually pulsed through the ropes of light that bound them, fading from bruise purple to radiant white as it was cleansed. His eyes were a complete white and he studied her features, giving them both another brief moment of silence before breaking it with a voice barely above a whisper, “If you had the choice, would you want to be rid of this…?” His eyebrows furrowed in thought, “It is a great thing to do for others, and is honorable to keep up your end of an arrangement, but no one that has done and gone through so much deserves such pain.” In his personal opinion at least…

She thought for a long time on her answer. The headache and myriad of voices were gone, and for once she had complete silence within her mind. Yes, she had entertained the idea of what it would be like to have it all disappear, to be freed. In a moment, the weight of her entire life's misfortunes would be gone like water rolling off the feathers of a duck. But was that what she really wanted? She knew if she asked, the deity could make it happen. She had no doubt about that. And yet…she found herself wondering if it was the right thing to do. Choosing to throw it all aside like a garment which had outlived its usefulness felt selfish, yet pretending to bear it like a martyr was equally so. In truth, she did not relieve those people of their grief out of charity alone.

She had sought out the lost and forsaken, and approached them when they were at their lowest point–to give them an offer they couldn't refuse. Although they usually benefited in the end, the act itself was not selfless. Her ability to take the pain of others was not something that she had been born with. Its origin came from a seed that had been sown deep in her heart out of discontent and indignation at injustice. When she helped those people, in a roundabout way she was attempting to help herself. There was no point in trying to justify it.

"I have considered this for a long time, for many years before this day. And after everything I have been through, I believe I do not have the right to simply throw it aside. To have a lifetime's worth of fear and torment wiped away with the wave of a hand would be an insult to each and every person's suffering. I know that eventually I will reach my limit on how much my mind and body can take. Instead I wish to learn how to absolve them on my own, to have every deferred hope and unfulfilled wish given an answer. Once they are resolved, those emotional conflicts will longer exist."

It was a fitting solution, what she had been trying to achieve all along. She couldn't change the fact that she had started this out of a selfish reason, but she could at least see it through to completion like she had intended. Shiloh in turn, thought this was what she deserved. Though it wouldn't solve her own problems, it would solve those that didn't belong to her. Unlike the people she had initiated contracts with, there wasn't anyone who could do the same for her. If she wanted her own inner conflicts resolved, she would have to confront them herself. "It's high time I've stopped running from my own problems and pretending that they don't exist. Nothing in life comes for free; there's always a cost somewhere down the line."

He nodded slowly as he listened, and was sure to stay quiet until she was finished. What she had told him, it was a great thing to do for others, but eventually she would reach her limit and he only hoped that when that day did come, that she would be somewhere safe. Even so, he knew there was no way he’d close that opened door. What he was doing for her now, though temporary, could at least subside the pain enough for her to have a chance to recuperate properly and healthily. Though, he still couldn’t help but wonder why she had initially put herself through this to begin with.

“Not thrown away…” his tone was soft, “No amount of pain that has already transgressed can ever be completely ridden of.” His eyes searched hers briefly before he continued, “To disregard the suffering that others have gone through? Yes, that would indeed be insulting. But there is a great difference between tossing one’s pain aside, and letting it finally come to rest.” There had been more than enough occurrences in his own life thus far for him to know that quite well,

“Pain is meant to be worked through, not hoarded. Taking their pain and keeping it…Yes, it helps them since they no longer need to go through it.” he nodded slowly, “However, aside from masochistic urges, what is the use of holding onto something for so long? The misfortunes and tortures of others is just bottled negativity at that point: energy stored until it’s become too much for its vessel. Everything needs a good cleaning every so often…” A corner of his lips turned up in a small smile. This was something she had been going through for a great deal of time, and he knew that there was nothing he could say to make her change her mind about giving it all up upon their first conversation. But, he did want to offer her relief, even if she wouldn’t free herself from this,

“If you’re insisting on keeping this transference, then if I might make one small suggestion.” The ropes of light slowly unbraided from around their arms: receding back into his arms where they stayed alit as still markings, “Allow some of it to be taken out of you every so often…You have helped them with their suffering, you have relieved them from it, but a mortal body can only withstand so much for so long.” He brought his hands to the floor and pushed up from there so that he could move and be seated next to her, “If you would allow me to, I could help relieve you of some of that emotional debt. Do not look at it as disregarding someone’s pain or tossing it aside. That is not what this is: this is only an added step to what you have done.”

He turned more towards her, “You have taken their pain into yourself, the respect to their situations has been paid. There is no shame or disrespect in finally letting that pain come to rest…” His eyes softened, “That is all that I’m offering, for you to come to me should you ever need to so that I can relieve you of some of that debt you’ve taken on from others. You have taken their pain so that they do not have to suffer it, all I’m offering is the same in return to you.”