You are standing on a tower, facing an old man. You are pointing a wand at him. His hands are up. He is disarmed. He is saying that he can help you. You don't doubt the sincerity of his words, and you hesitate. This year had built to this moment. You have to finish the task, do what your father failed to do. You either kill him, or you die. Why was this so hard? You feel the hate surging through your veins, but not towards the old man, but towards the one you call master.
Others enter the room, your aunt among them. They are taunting you to complete the mission, but when you look at the defenseless old man, you realize that you can't do it. You are not a murderer. You are not what the mark on your arm represents, but you have no choice. The helplessness washes over you. You want to reverse time, turn back the clocks, start the last six years over. Why you had ever wanted this is a mystery.
Suddenly, another man enters the room, the one who had tried to help and you had rebuffed. You realize that this is your only chance. Watching in horror, you realize that this man fulfilled your task himself. Numbly, you stumble after him, running into the night, leaving a piece of yourself up there on the tower. Your fate is uncertain, but you've been given one chance.