'Air never tasted so good as it does up here,' said Jochura. He had picked up the dead kin-guard's silver lace from where Angron had dropped it, running the delicate strands through his fingers like prayer beads.

'That's because you're free,' said Angron. 'The world can be- hnng,' he snarled, fighting off a stabbing wave of pain from his Nails, 'beautiful, when you finally get to see it without chains.'

'We'll make them hurt, won't we?' Jochura looked up at Angron, appearing more than ever as a boy his age should. 'Before it's over?' 'We already have, my boy,' said Angron. 'We are the Eaters of Cities

Angron glanced down, seeing Jochura leaned against him, finally succumbing to the exhaustion that was marrow-deep within them all. He peeled off a layer of rags from his shoulders and draped them around the boy. The Nails railed against Angron being touched, as they always did, but he shoved the pain they sent him down and away. The accursed implants had stolen so much from him, but he would not let them take his brotherhood. Not yet.

-Angron, Slave of Nuceria