Valerius looked at her. He saw the fire she had lit in him—the fire that had made him a champion. And he felt nothing. Not courage, not fear, not even the dull ache of shame. He felt the heavy, warm numbness of a man who has replaced every hard decision with a comfortable silence.
On the way, he passed his own statue. A pigeon had left a streak of white down its bronze cheek. The inscription read: He Never Bent. corruption of champions all text