He doesn't understand, at first, what the bright shock of pain means, and then he does. It's betrayal by one he thought loved him, by a figure he'd always looked up to, by one who had held a piece of his heart and kept it safe for so many, many years. The blade is, at the same time, both blazing hot and Arctic cold, particularly as it twists and pierces his Grace. He can feel his brother's hand gently caress his face before the light inside him flares and then dies away, leading him to an unknown darkness.

It's strange, this place he finds himself in: formless, devoid of both heat and cold, but oddly familiar. He wanders aimlessly until, suddenly, a warm Presence beckons to him and envelops him in its everlasting safety. He is Home, and he can hear the songs of his brothers and sisters, once more happy and free and joyful, like they haven't been for millennia. It's a soothing balm, and slowly but surely, like waves lapping against a great rock, washes away the pain of betrayal and replaces it with hope and happiness and calm.

Gabriel basks in it. Samandriel floats. All is well.