When Clancy refused the jacket one year ago on May 14th, 2025.
The air was thick with anticipation. The Torchbearer held himself as though he were rooted to the ground, keeping his light burning at both ends. He didn't hold a jacket, but a promise held together by fading red tape. Clancy stood before him, closer than he ever was. Yet in his friend's steely gaze, he could tell his mind was farther away. Perhaps somewhere beyond the towers of Dema. In another place, another time where the only thing between the two of them was a cup of warm cider and a thick blanket shared in a worn down tent. No promises to keep, no contracts to keep them from sleep. Clancy would always have a choice. To stay with him. If it meant honoring his side of a cycle they never wanted a part in. Torch wouldn't budge, wouldn't waver in his dedication to his longtime companion. Even if he chose to walk away, he would always find a way to cover him.
