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The Watcher grimaced and silently chastised himself. Though always a thoughtful individual, he had never been one for specious philosophy. Ishamael's influence had exerted a more profound effect on him then he had realized. It would be something he would worry over later; presently, he waited some time for an opportunity, ensconced in the shadows behind a nearby weeping willow tree. Finally Corey rose slowly from the grave and turned solemnly in the direction of the cemetery's exit. The Watcher decided to present himself. "Corey, " he uttered softly, striding from the darkness.

"You!" The tormented loss in Corey's eyes enflamed into dark, blistering hatred. The surge of Saidin rumbled menacingly, a hair trigger temper barely restraining the lethal flash that could warrant the Watcher a grave of his own. He stepped backwards cautiously, spreading his hands before him in a gesture of deference.

"Calm yourself, Corey, I am unarmed. I have come here on a personal matter, not on business."

"What is your business these days, traitor?" The young Rosmani spat the last word in utter contempt. "Should you not be hiding in the shattered refuges of civilization you helped create?"

The Watcher laughed candidly. The youth could still spout such charming naiveté at times. The Watcher had long ago discarded any trace of innocence; to see a spark of it reflected from another's soul was as amusing to behold as it was unnerving. "I am only a traitor if your side wins, Corey." He smiled sadly. "And though you refuse to believe me I am not responsible for this catastrophe. I was never the warmonger. I was not the one to break the peace of centuries."

"Yes, you always did want to straddle the fence." Corey folded his arms in defiance. "You speak so righteously of peace. Yours was the peace of a rotting prison!"