The Firyr that had stood before him there had clenched his fist, and felt fire spread across his chest. He'd been eager for the battlefield, he'd been certain that they would achieve further heroics on it, just as they had in that impossible and awful battle against the Emersons. So why was it now that he had forgotten? Why was it now he could not find that certainty?
"That is faith," Claudia said. "That which you hold to, even when you can no longer see the reasons why. That which you cling to, in the depths of darkness. You have faith in General Patrick do you not? Do you have faith in that man, who could see better than you, the Firyr who had such a strong certainty in him, when he had the luxury of vision? Will you believe in that version of you, despite the darkness around you?"
Firyr stood, wordlessly. He could feel Claudia standing behind him, as if she really was a physical presence. As if she was the best of women, there to support him, when he was at his very weakest.
