If I could swipe away the past, I'd erase the betrayal that turned me into this—kill the High Elves who stabbed me, the Legion I once saved. I'd use it to reclaim my honor and power, but I'd keep the wounds, because they keep me sharp. I don't want to become a man of nothing but pity; revenge is a blade that cuts both ways. So I'd cut the old grudges out, but leave the fire that fuels my vengeance.

I’ll keep the spark alive, but I’ll set a chain around it, a cage of willpower. If the flame spreads, it will devour even me, so I’ll guard the edge, sharpen the blade, and never let a single spark get the better of me. I’ll strike again, but this time I’ll aim for the heart, not the past.