A familiar whisper invaded Mithias.
"̢̀͡ Kill myself? Brother.. We are immortal. "̸̶̴͠
An image passed trough the veil, one of Mithias himself. An image of shock and terror. The background and fresh memories hint that this image came from the point of view of the machine holding the many clones.
"̢̀͡ I hide in the only place the heavens can't smite. I suggest you go north, retrieve the monarch, I'll stay and keep an eye out. Or a thousand"̸̶̴͠
There was no visage of Martin, or sounds of his voice. Just thought, yet somehow Martin was smiling.