He brought his tea to the table, sat down, and regarded me intently. "They were not heroes," he repeated. "What you need to see, Sara, is that... all martyrs are beautiful in retrospect. Every tragic early death gains this, this... romantic quality. And, in the case of Kellen and Crystal - considering how they died - a patina of legend. In the minds and hearts of the survivors, they become far nobler than they were in life - Kellen, a guardian, a paladin; Crystal, a warrior bride. That is not how it happened. That is not who they were. They were *people* - nothing more, nothing larger. Terribly foolish and fallible people. All the rest is embellishment. All the rest is a group of people trying desperately to make sense of something far larger than themselves, and using fallen friends as icons, elevating them to demigod status in their minds. Because otherwise it doesn't make sense. Thing is, Sara - sometimes things just do not make sense, will not make sense; some things are meant to be bigger than us. And sometimes... sometimes there are no heroes."