Was it worth it?
The question surfaced before Castor could stop it. Draelor's voice still echoed, "do you accept these terms?" but Castor's throat had closed. No sound would come. Just this question, repeating relentlessly.
Centuries of family legacy. Twenty years of my life fighting. Demon claws. Shattered bones. Blood on eastern borders.
Second Sword of the Empire.
What is that... without them?
Claudia's face flickered behind his eyes. She was sixteen now. Green eyes just like Eva's. She was only eight years old when she picked up her first wooden sword trying to follow her brother to the training yard.
It lasted only a week before she threw it down in frustration, found books instead. Now she reads philosophy he couldn't understand, writes poetry no one else comprehends, dreams of traveling to places he's never heard of.
Her laughter when she discovers something new in those pages were bright and uncontained.
She wanted more than noble marriages and waiting.
