"You were frustrated," Mabel said.
Liam's gaze did not move.
"You still are," Mabel continued. "Not as much as before, perhaps, but it is still there. And before you decide that I am accusing you of weakness, I am not. You have every right to feel frustrated."
That made Liam's eyes narrow slightly, not in anger, but in attention.
Mabel took one quiet breath before continuing.
"You were dragged into matters far above you before the war against Sylvathar. Then that war led to you falling into a slumber for six months, and during that time, you were forced to endure memories that were not your own. Your parents' memories. Aesmirius's memories, the memories of someone who is closer to a god than any living person should have to understand."
Liam's fingers tightened slightly around the towel.
Mabel noticed, but she did not stop.
