Part XXIV: Nevena’s Apologies

By Dagoth Nevena, Acolyte of the Sixth House

I felt them die, one-by-one, at Sanurdipal. I felt their voices go silent forever and I felt their hearts stop one last time, but even a thousand voices going silent paled in comparison to one voice going silent: Milos’ voice. I felt him die and I knew I would when he told me to run, but I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to lose him, but I would’ve died right by him if I had stayed. I would be dead right now if I would’ve defied him, just like he is, but a part of me wishes that is how things went down, but it’s not. He’s gone. He’s gone forever and there was nothing I could do to save him and it hurts. Everything hurts as I think about him; we didn’t know each other for that long, a year at most, and yet he held more sway over my heart than anyone ever has before and I can’t help it—I miss him. I miss him more than anything.

He was there for me when no one else was. He was there for me when I called out to any and all who would hear me, but none did. Cerebel did not. Lord Dagoth did not. But Milos, he came to me, and he saved me from myself. He gave me purpose. He gave me a life. He gave me—everything—and how did I thank him for all that he gave me? I ran. I ran as hard as I could and as fast as I could when Eno set upon us with a look of sucking emptiness in his eyes—not hatred—something else. Something—worse. But I knew when I locked my eyes with his that the man I once knew back in Balmora, that wasn’t him anymore—that was somebody who died a long time ago, and now—now there was just this—this—shell. This husk of a man with a vendetta and a sword which carved through flesh and steel alike in much the same manner as a hot knife through butter and all I could do was run. That’s all I did. I ran. And now he’s gone. Now my mentor, my teacher, my best friend—my only friend—is gone. Because I ran.

I’m sorry, Milos.

I’m sorry I left you.

I’m sorry I wasn’t the student you deserved and I’m sorry I dragged you to Sanurdipal. You were right. You were always right—about everything—and I—I just kept dragging you with me. I kept asking you to follow my lead even though you knew it was the wrong to take, but you didn’t want me to go alone, so you came with—and now you’re gone. I’m sorry, Milos. I’m so sorry.

But my apologies—they won’t change anything, will they?

They won’t change the fact that you’re gone or that I ran; they won’t even change how I feel. They’re just empty words I’m speaking into the void to try to cope with the fact that you’re gone and that if I had just listened—if I had just listened one time—maybe you wouldn’t be gone, but it’s too late for that. And I don’t know if you’re out there—or what happened to you, Milos—but I want you to know something, I’m going to make it. I promise you, Milos, your sacrifice will not be in vain. I swear this to you.

I just hope that—wherever you are—you know that. I hope you know that I will be everything you saw in me the potential to be. I will become everything you wanted to be and I hope that you know that. Wherever you are, I hope you know that.

I love you, Milos.

I loved you since we met in the Undercity; I loved you since the day you took me under your wing and taught me how to come to accept who I was becoming. You were—the father I never had, Milos, and I only wish I had told you that before I lost you. You were there for me when nobody else was and you never gave up on me, even when I did on you, and I—I love you, Milos. I hope you can forgive me for not being the daughter you deserved, even though I don’t deserve it, but I promise you—I will do right by you. I must do right by you.

I will reach the Red Mountain and not even Eno will stop me.

­I swear it to you, Milos. I will do it. Even if only for you.

-Dagoth Nevena, Acolyte of the Sixth House