"It began in an enormous city of stone and glass. The surrounding details were hazy, as though a spotlight shone only on the creature in front of her. He appeared the same, except he was missing the black coat from before. His bare torso, the same peach color as his hands, was covered in wounds. Some were white lines, old and scarred, and some were so fresh they were still wrapped in red-stained bandages. As she watched, he put on a suit of medieval armor in a spartan, lonely room. He rose, sword in hand, and went out into the strange city. He walked lightly, a smile on his face, but Twilight could see that he had a heavy purpose in mind. Most of the city’s people ignored him, some jeered at him. He ignored both. They arrived at the edge of the city just as the sun was setting. In the soft glow of dusk he stood on an open plain between the city and a wild, tangled forest. As the light dimmed, monsters began to appear, slinking out of the growing shadows until a multitude of them waited, arrayed against him. They were horrifying, all of them, each in its own unique way. Twilight had never seen anything like them, and she recoiled in fear from their drooling jaws and blood-stained claws. As one, the creatures of night bellowed their challenge to the lone warrior. He was unbowed by the wave of sound and held his ground. As the lingering echoes died away he responded.
He laughed at them, loud and cocky, and made a one-fingered gesture Twilight didn’t fully understand. The monsters did, and they screamed in fury even as they charged him. What followed was the most violent and frightening thing she had ever seen. All of the horrors were quick and vicious, but the man was quicker still and his swordplay was that of a true master. Perhaps he lacked the finesse of a more experienced knight, but as he bisected one unlucky foe, Twilight realized he had more than enough power to make up for it. He fought against insane odds, never giving ground to the darkness. The black blood of the creatures flew as his sword cut corrupted flesh, but crimson blood flowed steadily from the many wounds he received in return. Much later, the full moon rose over a silent battlefield, the beasts were dead or had fled, and the warrior stood alone, breathing raggedly. He was so covered in the black blood of his enemies that he resembled them more than any of his city’s people. Then Twilight noticed something she hadn’t before; his eyes were mismatched. One was a brown so bright it bordered on gold. That eye was full of honor and strength, and tired as he was, it still blazed like a torch. The other, though, was a brown so dark that it appeared black. It didn’t blaze, it smoldered. Rage, pain, cruelty and an unquenchable lust for power lived in that eye. She realized that there stood the real battle, within the heart of the warrior. Every time he fought, he walked the knife’s edge between using his power and letting it use him, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop fighting for his city. Twilight felt an intense surge of emotion, equal parts pity and fear, even as the image faded to black."
— What Twilight sees when soulgazing Dresden.
"You’re a man of iron and blood, stone and fire. Touched by darkness, but not overcome by it. Beaten and damaged, but unbowed. Unrelenting in word and deed, in thought and creed. You would lay siege to Tartarus itself if that’s where Twilight had been taken. And all because she’s your friend. Because you would do anything to keep her safe. Because you care."
— Bon Bon, after soulgazing Dresden.
Twilight: Would you take off all your clothes, please? I’ve got a surprise that I think you’ll like.
Bob: Now we’re talking!
Bob: Now we’re talking!
"That is quite literally impossible!"
— Bob
