It's something he feels more than sees; a harbour, a balm, solid ground.

I doubt he can. Zerxus would still do it, but he cares more about respecting Kahl's wishes than denying his own pain.

"And he calls me ridiculous." For the first time, there's nothing artful in the way he speaks; it's not loftily imperious or disarmingly tender. It's just quietly, wearily earnest.

Asmodeus rises, but the fire flickers and fades. "You love too easily, Zerxus."

Before Zerxus can even begin to process that that, "We called a truce, the Betrayers and the 'Prime Deities', so that we could infiltrate Aeor together. The only way to breach their defences was to become mortals."

He could never comprehend a process like that, and so doesn't try. What he's focused on are the broader implications, the pieces finally grinding painfully into place. "...All of you?"

"Most of us."

Zerxus sits down, heavily, and swallows hard. "They - those fucking idiots, did they even think - "