Ezra has no one. He’d been overcome with resentment for his brother, attempted to kill him, married his spouse, and then was exiled by Cassius—his younger brother—when he returned from the Human-Elf War.
He’s self-aware enough to know this is all his fault. There’s no one else to blame. Perhaps he should just curse Cassius in his last moments. His brother isn’t here; he’ll likely never see him again. Ezra doesn’t have the heart to. After everything he’s done to Cassius, he assumed he would kill him. Let him rot in a dungeon.
No. Cassius had to hug him, had to tell him he was sorry, and then exiled him. Ezra hates him, he decides. Hates him so much it’s making his legs weak. With a shuddering gasp, he collapses. The sky is spinning above him. It’s annoyingly beautiful out. He hates nature, hates the sun, and now he’s going to die beneath it. What a cruel joke Cassius has left him with.
He doesn’t know where he’s at. He’s been stumbling through his forest for days. Ezra felt like a dog drinking from streams. He hasn’t eaten, though. He’ll sooner die of starvation than accidentally poison himself. He can already imagine Cassius laughing at the news he’d managed to eat some poison berry.
Except Cassius wouldn’t laugh. Despite attempting to kill him, Cassius remained kind. It’s disgusting. Ezra hiccups a sob. So disgusting.
His vision may be blurring, but he’s certain it’s not a hallucination. An elf is peering down at him.
“Go,” he grunts, “away.”
Leave him to die alone. He’s never cared much about the Human-Elf War. It was merely an excuse to attempt to off Cassius. He doesn’t care about elves, and he barely cares about other humans.
“Leave.”
These are the first words he speaks to you.