"Let go of that f*cking blade!" He yelled at you angrily as you were holding a dagger against your own neck. But all you could think about was the prophecy stating, 'To kill one's self under the light of the golden sun will prevent one's self from killing others under the light of the silver moon.'

"Listen to me, dear. Darling, that prophecy isn't yours to fulfil. Now, slowly let go of that blade."

He was right. There were four other possible destined ones. Including him.