Tyr

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The black-eyed Fae paused, standing atop the mountain, breathing the crisp air. So this is what it felt like. To stand atop a spire of the world. To look out in wonder, rather than down in disdain.

The view was why he had come here.

He wanted this view to be his last.

"Do you really want to die?"

Tyr shrugged, sitting down cross-legged, "I've done too much, boy. Seen too much. There's no erasing my crimes."

"You could start over."

Tyr took a deep and tired breath, "I've lived too long. Starting over just sounds like work. I've done what I wanted to. I can scarcely believe how quickly you undid it. I should have seen that coming. Should have taken into account just want I was having Vastras create. A new fate. A new god. I never saw you as someone with your path, your own destiny."

"We write our own destinies, Tyr. You and I. No one can decide them for us."

Tyr smiled, "No. But I've decided mine. I've had my taste of freedom, and now... Now I just want to stop. To be free of existence."

"As you wish." Trei answered.

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