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Seraph gripped his head, threatening to rip out his hair as tears poured from his eyes. “I am a coward, remember? I ate that plum because I wanted to escape the pain I now know I deserved. But I wish that plum really had killed me. I wish I had died that day. It would have been better than a life with no hope of redemption. Every morning, I open my eyes and remember waking up after the fight. Realizing you’re alive after trying to end it all, I never knew something could be so painful. Every breath hurt, every beat of my heart was agony, every thought in my mind felt like hot lead, and it all comes again fresh every morning. All I’ve wanted to do since then is… finish what I started.”“I know how you feel.”

Bojena paused. “My superiors want Galvin deposed and Seraph put on the throne. Even if he has lost most of his powers, he remains Light’s Emissary, and he’ll be able to unite the nations in this holy war against the Profane.”

Should he do it? Just forfeit the match? To admit before the crowd that their prince was too weak to fight back? After everything that had happened to him, he had no pride left, nothing to lose. Maybe it was better to accept his failure and resign himself to his shame. Lying on the ground, he raised his arm, about to surrender, but stopped, thinking back to a conversation he had with Tarnas. It was during the year of training, the two of them sitting around the campfire on an autumn night. Seraph was staring deep into the flames, into the light and warmth, but all he felt inside was cold darkness.