How easy it is to break a heart. The right word in the right place and the driving force of a person will crumble like a column of ash. Some people delight in it; watching the hope fade in the eyes of the devoted, seeing their dreams for the future shatter in an instant, the pain that replaces the tentative joy. I cannot bear it.
How many times have I felt the ravening jaws of disapointment close about my own heart? How many times have I felt my hope wither? How many times have my emotions been toyed with, my heart stolen and trampled, the bitter bite of rejection within my soul? I know how it feels, yet twice in as many days have I visited such a feeling upon others.
One I could, and did eventually, fix. Lustwyn, who raised my ire unwittingly; her heart broke when I told her that she had lost my friendship. A few arguments later and all was set aright, her wounds healed, her heart as whole as it can be at this time.
The same cannot be said for Esfin, however. I should have seen it coming. I should have known of his feelings toward me from the questions he had asked and certain comments he has made. Have I become so jaded, so blinded by circumstance, that I can no longer see that which stands before me? Does it matter? The result was the same; a man already crushed by the loss of his friend professed his feelings for me, and I further broke him with my rejection.
The Legion is no longer a threat, I am told; scattered to the winds like torn paper. All reports state the same, regardless of source, yet somehow I am unable to forget the threat a red-haired man made to me along the road a few days ago. There will be no mercy, he said, and that they will soon come for me too. Only moments later, I learned that Craign had died that day.
So much bloodshed, so much violence, so much heartbreak...
Yet throughout it all, I find that my concerns lie with Cyfier. He faces such danger now, more than he will admit to or see, but it is not for his body that I worry. He is a hardy man, strong and capable. Any physical wound that he recieves, I can stitch or bind. His heart, though, is closing in, his spirit condensing. I have watched him grow little by little from the day we met, his inner-light becoming that little bit brighter with each passing day. To watch him shut himself away once more, withdrawing into himself... To watch that beautiful light fade...
I have failed him. This I know.
