" He closed his eyes. Mazana or Avallon, Avallon or Mazana. The choice seemed no clearer now than it had ever been. The future offered two paths, but what did you do when you wanted to walk both, you wanted to walk neither?
The answer seemed obvious suddenly. You made your own path, of course. A new path entirely.
He opened his eyes again. In the room behind, Kolloken was whistling.
You mean you ain’t done worse in your time?
Senar pictured Uriel sitting next to Mazana in Olaire, learning to use water-magic. The Guardian hadn’t known the boy well. In truth, he’d never tried to get to know him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel the sting of his death. Maybe in Kolloken’s place he would have done the same; he didn’t know. What he did know, though, was that he wouldn’t have been whistling about it afterward. He wouldn’t have blamed Mazana for what happened like he was the one who’d been wronged.
A coldness settled on him, and he pushed himself away from the wall.
Then he turned and went back into Kolloken’s room, closing the door behind. "

― Marc Turner , Red Tide (The Chronicles of the Exile, #3)