"At the cost of everything else?"

For the first time, Zerxus himself changes in the light. His horns fade to afterimages, and his clothing shimmers - not into the armour of the First Knight but something he'd wear on his own time. Cloth spun by expert hands that would never weave again; buttons of polished brass cast in a workshop that's only ash and cinders now; a sky-blue cloak bearing the forgotten crests of both his cities.

"Did you consider, really, what you were taking? What you were using them to do?"