Not what will happen - what will you do. Your past is not yet lost. Your future is not yet fixed.

How would you feel about helping me kill some evil bastards?

Like moons make swell and wane the nescient seas, so too the sky-strewn gods ordain the tidal fates of mortal days. And yet - a notion born in lonely hours - come ebb, come flow, come all that is beyond the breadth of our dominion: be a moon unto yourself. Even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will.

In a thousand years, when I’ve all but forgotten how to love yet again, you’ll flit back into my heart, and I’ll weep, wondering what happened to my mad love.

Kiss my arse. I'm the Lord of Murder - I'll show you why.