Lychnis planned to kill the evil sorcerer. She didn't even need help! She was going to do it all on her own—she simply couldn't trust the king or the villagers to get anything done. She had to do it herself. She finally convinced one of the louts to tell her where Sumac's cabin was. It was tucked away in the thickest part of the forest, just outside of town. So, she planned her attack: she'd knock on the door, pretending to be a traveling merchant. She'd sell herbs—only the best, picked in the darkest corners of Tyria. Yes, he'd love that. When the time finally arrived, Lychnis traversed the winding vines and thick foliage that guarded the sorcerer's refuge. Then, she saw it: it was small, unassuming. The roof was covered in a thick blanket of moss, and the glow of a gentle flame flickered from underneath the front door. She approached the little hut, careful not to make a noise. She stepped up onto a big rock next to the window to peer inside. Nothing. Darkness. Everything, but nothing. The world spinning, spinning, spin... Tears and anger. Fear of the unknown. Mourning and regret. Where am I? Who are you? No, excuse me. WHAT are you?