Voices of Despair by ford_of_bruinen

XVIII

A choice? To accept my brother’s death as a gift from the one? To accept my own? Is death a gift or curse, to rest and to forget and cease to be?

I hear him breathe but else the room is silent. The choice is mine he said, he has made his. What did he chose? Why will he not tell me?!

Air too thick to breathe, too thick to swallow, a band of iron tightening my chest. I close my eyes. “I will follow the Eldar,” I say, certain I guessed right.

“I chose the Men,” come the reply.