The sun is fading again. When it does, my room will get dark; I will sit here alone as long as I can endure it. In that darkness, a calm nothingness once waited for me. I miss that. Sometimes I heard footsteps from above; Astral Ward hurrying to their stations. Maybe a laugh somewhere down the hall. Long before the tower was filled with bodies, Vass would rush inside without notice. Excited to show me something new. Something pure. But now... Screaming. Crying—the kind of crying that turns your stomach sour. My mind swirls with flickers of caves and dead cubs and starving. Cold. Cold like I've never felt it... The kind of cold that Jormag summoned, unending and bitter. It makes me feel alone. Dust covers those memories—if they even are memories. They'd have to be from before. Before I plunged into the depths of Tyria's magic when Isgarren ascended me. I don't know what I see, what I smell, or what I hear, but all of it haunts me the same. All of it makes me want to shed my fur and stand before the light and beg for forgiveness... I don't even know what needs forgiving. I... He... I don't know how much more of this I can take. Dagda sees right through my eyes, into my soul. And Isgarren's gaze... I've disappointed him, and I haven't even left yet. But I think I need to.