“I pray about you, still.”
“...You pray about me? Why is that?”
“I know you have no desire for the divine or for their devout. But I pray about you.”
“You still did not answer me why.”
“There is something holy in you.”
“Something holy? I fear I know not of which you speak.”
“Nor do I. I cannot quite place it. Yet I look at you and I know I would follow you to the Shadow and back.”
“You should not say things like that.”
“Whyever not?”
“Words carry weight. That sounds dangerously like an oath.”
“Perhaps it was.”
“You do not mean that.”
“I do. I will follow you there and back. A thousand times if you asked it of me.”
“You should not swear your life a thousand times over. It is improper of me to ask that.”
“What is eternity if I do not spend it? What is eternity if I wile it away? My life is my own, and to give to whom I please.”
“...We will die, one day.”
“Better that we die together than alone.”
“...There is something holy in you, too.”
“Something that you, too, cannot name?”
“Nay, I can. I know exactly what it is.”
“Oh? Do tell me. We have eternity to discuss it.”
“What is holy in you is as what I see when lightning sets a tree ablaze.”
“And what is it that you see?”
“Divine providence.”
“You see divine providence when lightning strikes a tree?”
“I see it in you.”
“You know as to what I meant.”
“Divine providence in destruction.”
“Am I the lightning or the tree?”
“Of that… I am not yet sure.”
And around them, the world continued to burn.
