"Ah, but it is." He said, grinning, watching the wheels in the little boy's head turn. His very child-like attempts at manipulation written across his face like a clear code. "It's what we do. My people. We choose our own names. It becomes everything." Beat. "Nearly everything. Been this way for almost all of my time."

Which was true. As true as their being another name, no one could know or hear.

He'd chosen this. He's made the promise. Made it enough to know what it was to break it and keep it.

The promise, and this name, that the universe whispers on billions of lips. That meant him, and the storm, and eternity.