[He stands, gently brushing the cutieflies from his hands until they resume floating in the air like so much pollen. He stands from his kneeling position and closes the distance between them. He presses his palms, still warm, to Hades' cheeks.]

My dearest friend, my lover and coconspirator... It is too plain to see that you are worn out. You are ground down like an instrument left to disrepair. This may very well be an inevitable consequence of your duty, so pray listen close.

If you continue unabated, you will be spent. You will break, and at that moment you will cry out, desperate to eke out any last shred of your soul and aether. Even death will not soothe the turbulence in your soul.

[He gazes into his eyes, brows furrowing with his smile dropped. He bends to press his forehead against Hades']

You will save no one, not even yourself, if allowed on this course. I beg of you to trust me.