Jon is a fool. One should never play the game of zealots. These machines did not care for loyalty or love, they existed to follow orders and that's it. The one that issued their commands likewise had nothing holding it to a deal never made. All this would do would be to embolden them and their claims that this test would somehow bring back their maker.
It wouldn't, and it wouldn't stop the horrors that were soon to come to pass. This wasn't going to prevent grand-scale bloodshed, it was the match to ignite the fires of war. But Murmur couldn't tell Jon that, he could only watch him sadly steel his resolve for a sacrifice that didn't have to be made. When Navi was repaired and able to make Jon whole again he was getting such an earful from Murmur.
He will keep the others safe. He will do so much more than that. Those who had been crushed under the thumb of these false Celestials would be uplifted and the abominations that ruled over them crushed. His course was set, and that course was judgement.
Steeling his own resolve he extracted his hand from Jon's moving to cup his chin in both of his own to look him in the eye. At the very least this time it would be his own hand, and he wouldn't be a coward about it. "Then by your will..." A hesitation as something like a deeply saddened apology entered his eyes. He wished he could kiss Jon one last time, but they apparently had to keep up appearances. "This will hurt." He didn't really give Jon the time to process that. The upside to being smote by an angel was that it was generally very quick, the holy power surging through him was exactly the thing necessary to break apart an Avatar. It was harsh and unforgiving, the hammer of Light's divine judgement was ever heavy.
At the same time, while he burned away the Archivist Murmur reached out where the machines couldn't see to snatch Jon's soul up into himself. A quality of the Ophanim few gave much thought to was their ability to take the essence of another and wrap it safely within their rings. His flesh might be battered and torn, but Jon's soul would remain safe and protected within one of Heaven's very own bulwarks.
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It wouldn't, and it wouldn't stop the horrors that were soon to come to pass. This wasn't going to prevent grand-scale bloodshed, it was the match to ignite the fires of war. But Murmur couldn't tell Jon that, he could only watch him sadly steel his resolve for a sacrifice that didn't have to be made. When Navi was repaired and able to make Jon whole again he was getting such an earful from Murmur.
He will keep the others safe. He will do so much more than that. Those who had been crushed under the thumb of these false Celestials would be uplifted and the abominations that ruled over them crushed. His course was set, and that course was judgement.
Steeling his own resolve he extracted his hand from Jon's moving to cup his chin in both of his own to look him in the eye. At the very least this time it would be his own hand, and he wouldn't be a coward about it. "Then by your will..." A hesitation as something like a deeply saddened apology entered his eyes. He wished he could kiss Jon one last time, but they apparently had to keep up appearances. "This will hurt." He didn't really give Jon the time to process that. The upside to being smote by an angel was that it was generally very quick, the holy power surging through him was exactly the thing necessary to break apart an Avatar. It was harsh and unforgiving, the hammer of Light's divine judgement was ever heavy.
At the same time, while he burned away the Archivist Murmur reached out where the machines couldn't see to snatch Jon's soul up into himself. A quality of the Ophanim few gave much thought to was their ability to take the essence of another and wrap it safely within their rings. His flesh might be battered and torn, but Jon's soul would remain safe and protected within one of Heaven's very own bulwarks.