Noctisardor Bypass How would it ever get me by?

It comes from you, it means nothing. A statement with dual pronged meaning. If it was so important, Etienne should have told Anselm himself.  

A rain droplet fell from the sky, arcing down Druid’s face. Anselm prepared for the next litany of words, his mental shield raised — only for the question to weasel its way in the crumbling cracks of his defense. His expression betrayed the thousand-strong emotions that wrestled within him like tiny daemons; each clawing for their tiny breath of life. 

He stepped back. No. Came the thick growl, guttural and twisting.