two moons walk into a ruined bar and...

Of course, Fiore shifted, a look of resignation falling across his face as he sensed the weight in Eularia's assertion. I can forget how absolute the fire of a mage is, lost in my laws alchemy. 

He listened to his protégé mourn, watching her closely with heavy eyes. He hated to see her defeated. Perhaps at another time in his life, he would have been able to find the sadiatic joy in way the wheel turned against Eularia--a schadenfreude of 'If you'd only done what I'd said, it would have been over quicker'. It was her defiance to become calloused and persevere still which had made her strong, and here she was, ready to throw it away finally.

If that is what you must do to survive, you know you can. He said as she stepped closer. His chest twisted as he said the words despite his own feelings. He closed his eyes and steeled himself before continuing. When he opened them again, he looked sternly to her, I wish I could advise you of a better way to wash the blood from your conscience, my dear. But I am little more than a hardened, old Crow myself. His gaze fell, slowly reaching the safety bubble the queen's four, eeirely similar children waited within. If you build that wall now, your children may never know you. He looked back to her,  And you've gotten this far by refusing to do that, Your Majesty. The honorific was one he scarcely used towards her in private--not out of disrespect but his own pride--using it only to punctuate his point. 

A suspicion crossed his expression. He didn't think Eularia would be quick to let go of Frankie. Knowing of her affinity towards the Fade and undead, a question began to form. This haunting you speak of-- He trailed off, rubbing his thumb against the pads of his other fingers as he searched for the words. He inhaled sharply, Is it simply grief and shame which haunts you? Or do you hold onto his spirit in the Fade?