The Temple of Crossroads

[Ronan]

Ronan could sense Semele's anger. Her head shook, shame burgeoning in cool, earthen eyes. He looked back up at her apologetically. "No... I suppose not. That is... that is the definition of Pavilion. Family. Unity. Bonds." Bonds. He had never been good with them. Never. He got too close, or he burned them. There was no middle ground, only a tenuous balance between birth and destruction. Always. "Thank you, my Lady. Thank you. Self sacrifice... I had thought that a worthy cause once. But change is the crux. Change or die. We bend, or we break." He nodded. The clock ticked. One final chime. One final movement. Blackness swallowed everything whole again, until Ronan gasped awake. A cold sweat had taken him, and he pulled his blankets tighter, sitting up. Change or die. Bend or break. It was not only his own life that depended on that. There was no room for martyrs in this new world.