Bonesplinter Ravine Dead Voxel

Machiavelli's gaze softened into something akin to pleading. He didn’t have much left to offer—not after what she thought he had taken from her—but the least he could do was give her truth, even if she refused to accept it. He could feel the hatred in her eyes, sharper than any tooth or nail, and yet he dared to speak, dared to ask her to see logic. Herod wouldn’t let her kill him, and oddly enough, that was his only reassurance now. Oh, the bitter irony, to be grateful for the protection of the man that was to him what he must be to the snow mother.

What could have been my reason, Eira? he asked, gaze imploring. You trusted me once.

That was all he could manage. More words sat on the edge of his tongue, but he swallowed them down, knowing anything else would sound like hollow excuses. He knew her too well—she would take them as insults, more lies to fuel the fire that already blazed within her. So instead, he turned his face away, letting his gaze wander to the cave's walls, as if the streaks of gold weaving through the stone might offer some escape from the suffocating ache in his chest.

He didn’t expect forgiveness. He didn’t even expect her to listen. But deep down, there was that naive, lingering desire—a desperate hope she might see him, just for a moment, not as the monster she believed him to be, but as the boy who had once stood beside her son. Perhaps that was too much to ask.

His voice broke through the stillness once more, softer this time. I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but when I was attacked, I was traveling with a girl. His gaze flicked briefly to her, testing the waters. She hadn't attacked him, not yet at least. He took that as a good sign. I’m obviously in no position to send a message to Lady Eset, however... perhaps you could?

The words left his mouth before he could think too much about them, no demand in his tone, only hope. It was absurd, he knew it. Here he was, asking a woman who believed he had taken everything from her to do him a favor. But what choice did he have? If anyone could reach Eset, it was Eira. Whether she wanted to or not, whether she saw him as an enemy or not, she was his best chance. And he had so little left to lose.