"And what if we are?"

She stares at the departing god, spear drooping low. Is it anger that fuels her words now, or pity? Hades seems... Angry, yes. But despondent, too. 

"What if we [i]are[/i] doomed? Cursed to fail? Are we to give up? Accept it?

"You seem so certain we are not to succeed. Very well. Shall we cut our losses and settle here, with the Azura? Shall we return the Plousios? Perhaps there is a future in giving advice to the next crew?"

Two hundred and fifty years of disappointment. Of seeing crews fail to achieve your goal.

"You are wrong, I think. I certainly hope you are, because if you are not... then we will still go on, risk or no.

"But I am at least a little hopeful because... Well, you [i]are[/i] wrong about my wish. It is not for myself."

She sighs. 

"I gave up, you know. Wanted peace, and convinced myself that a niche with no fighting was what I wanted. And I could have it again, I think--Redana would probably even give me the seal, if she knew how and I asked. I could join any ship, travel somewhere, and start anew. Instant peace.

"But a niche is not good enough anymore."

It's wonderful, isn't it? Miraculous, even.

"I do not want to fight. But if I want to get my wish, my friends must also get their wishes. Their happy endings. And if that means defending them..."

She rubs the worn spot pensively.

"... I think I can be okay with that."