[Carlisle's eyes flick from his work on the glyph to the despondent king, his own brow knitting. For as much as he abhors the necromancy the gods of Hadriel cast upon their captives, he cannot say he's not a little envious of someone who has been given more time with his family, even if only a brief period. His own life would have been so different if his own family hadn't fallen to the misfortune brought upon by his curse.]

Perhaps, then, it is best you aren't still dead. [He caps his pen, letting the glyph dry as he sets the leaves into the mug.] Perhaps there is purpose for you in granting him the guidance he needs to become a man with this time you have been given, however dreadful the circumstances may be.