[Zekarion thinks about the first time he held them like this. The sympathy and care he had then was no less real than what he harbors at this moment, but it pales in comparison—much like the shade's hands would to the man's now, solid but gentle against their clock. What he tried to do then was just another aspect of his greater desires: to save every single soul, leaving none behind.

He can't erase their worries now like he did then, nor will he try. All he can think of is the solution he's favored for so long.]

It's about the truth.

[Even he can only carry the weight of his lies so far. It feels like he's made the mistake of trying to weave them into something solid, leaving only a gilded surface to hide how frail and hollow it all is.

His eyelids lower as he stares into their face, a dark mirror by itself. ... yes, he thinks he's come to the answer. If he can't bring himself to push them away, and if they refuse to leave him, then...]

I want to tear you away from all of it. [Harsher:] Distortions, Abnormalities, your company. [But not just that. Barely softer but no less unpleasant, he continues.] Your Sinners. The path you've chosen. Everything you seek. ... To take you with me.

[To the end he's promised so many already.]