It takes an effort of will to meet the Fool's eyes, but Devin does turn. Fear and uncertainty crumple into shock when the Fool touches his cheek. He's too surprised to do much but breathe in sharply before the prophet pulls his hand away, and after seems frozen by the contact. When was the last time he'd been touched so gently? Either he can't remember, or it's never happened. Kind hands have rarely reached him.

A memory of the future lashes at Devin: an eternity awaits in which he will slowly cease to be the man he is and become something other. How long it will take, Devin has no idea; only that if he isn't killed, he can never truly die. That matters less here in Konryu. In all likelihood, Devin will be sent back to his world before immortality becomes relevant. No, the real obstacles are more deeply rooted than that nebulous fate.

He can't hold that amber gaze for more than a moment. Devin's grip on the edge of the stone is white-knuckled and his voice is edged with desperation. "I am a monster, Fool. I am hunted by every race and faction in my world, and there is an ocean of blood on my hands. Do you really think we'll be this lucky again, if more of my enemies arrive? It's hard enough losing friends to a peaceful old age."

Everyone dies, and he has not learned to overcome that grief. But even that, Devin knows, is not the cruelest specter that hangs over him. The last one is as selfish as it is agonizing.