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It's supposed to feel good. Ja'zel opened beneath you. His blood under your nails. Beaten until his bones turn to dust.
You've thought about it. You've thought about this moment. You're supposed to feel good, to wash away his blood in the water and with it all the pain he caused you.
It feels worse now. It's supposed to feel better. You're supposed to stand over his fading corpse and smirk.
He's not supposed to say he loves you. Ja'zel shouldn't love you. Love is what you had with Lalanoah and Brant and Grolly and Skall and Kanra. Love is that sacred place where the world was good. Love is apple pie and laughter and springtime flowers. Love is what Ja'zel took from you.
You want Ja'zel back. The thought makes you want to laugh and cry and scream. You want to beg him to tell you why he would give you the world and take it away.
The world is empty now. There's nothing left. Lalanoah died in your arms. Your beautiful, kind, ornery daughter fell apart because of him.
You miss her. You miss him. His body is still warm. You hold him and pretend he is sorry and pretend he loves you and pretend he is her and pretend you never met.
What is left, now? You have nothing. You are nothing.
You can lay down and die next to Ja'zel. You can let your corpse rot with his and let him have you forever. You lose, he loses. Everyone dies for nothing.
You can keep running and stand on the Blue Star and try to make meaning out of the overwhelming aching in your chest. You can feel so much suffering that you're not sure how your body doesn't crumble into pieces, get up, wipe the blood off your hands, and walk away.
You take a deep breath. You tell Ja'zel that you hate him and that you love him and that you'll never forgive him and that you're going to finish what he started.
You tell him goodbye, and you keep going.