I’m just going to have to live with it for now. And hope that this isn’t something sinister.

I grab the rope handle again, not looking at my arm. I could vaguely remember what I saw before I passed out, how the bandages had seemed to come out of my flesh and recoiled around it.

I harden my will, steeling myself to this new development. I chose this path. Inik warned me about it, and I still chose it. Vicar warned me about it too.

I take a deep breath, recollecting myself.

I stare at the stars for a while, the sound of the wind shifting the sands filling my ears and the stretch being pulled through the sand is a constant sound.

“Kamar, can I ask you something?” I say after a while.

The asper grunts, “I suppose you can.”

I stay silent for a minute, contemplating the best way to phrase my question. “Why are you so obsessed with finding the villagers? You told me how you were adopted into House Arten, but not really anything about why you care so much about Millwallow so much.”

Kamar doesn’t answer for a while, just steadily pulling the stretcher through the cool sand. He finally answers after what feels like an eternity. “I used to be young. I wanted adventure, so I set out from House Arten to explore the world. Many years later, I had aged and sobered from my youthful dreams and hopes. That’s one of the things about hindsight, it’s a fricking…”

He falls silent for a minute, and I wait patiently for him to continue.”Well, anyways. I eventually came back to House Arten. When I came back, I found the Head, the one who took me in, dead. They told me he died bravely in battle against a rival House.

The new House Head was less than fond of me. But due to my relationship with the late Head and my good rapport with the rest of the House, he couldn’t easily get rid of me. So, instead he sent me to be in charge of a small village that was on land the House owned, Millwallow.

I was tired of journey at that point, of fighting. So I gave in, and settled down in Millwallow. At first, they were intimidated and afraid of me. But eventually, I was able to get them to open up to me.

You see, they are now my people. My family, if you will. I helped them get through the harsh times, and they helped me. It is my duty, as both a member of the House, the leader of Millwallow, and a member of that family, to make sure they are safe.”

Through the entire thing, he started to sound profoundly weary and worried, his rumbling voice quieting. He didn’t stop pulling the stretcher though, and I layed, staring at the bright stars and contemplating what he told me.

A family?

I don’t think I have felt that, not since my parents died. The villagers of Amia were kind to me, but they never treated me like a member of the village. More a laborer, just someone there to work for them.

I am pulled from my thoughts, Kamar speaking again, this time the weariness gone from his voice. “You know Kardin, when I look at you, I can’t help but see myself.”

“Yourself?” I ask, confused.

“Yes, myself. I can tell you are a rational person, but you’re still too young to understand some of the more complex things in the world. I can understand why you want vengeance, but I can also see how blinded you are from it.”

He falls silent, and I don’t say anything, only staring down at the bottom of the dune we are traversing. Eventually, I ask, “Blinded?”

Kamar grunts, “From what I have gathered from what you told me, Amia was accommodating towards you. The villagers helped you after your parents’ deaths. And from what I understand, it was more out of a sense of guilt and owing your parents. You latched onto that, become dependent on it, and thought of it as kindness, when in reality it was pity.”

I open my mouth to object, but kamar interrupts me before I can, his deep voice cutting through the quiet night. “I understand some of them were kind to you, but they never treated you like one of them. Sure, they helped you, but you were always an outcast. And you have known that for pretty much your entire life, and I think you don’t know any better that it was pity.

When I look at you, I see a lost boy struggling to make sense of the world. To try and find some meaning or purpose to what happened, and something to live for. What I think, is that when Amia was destroyed, and everything you ever knew, you became lost. So you latched on to the only thing you could find, the morbid idea of avenging their deaths. I’m not the best with words, but I think you are still very much lost, clutching to a childish idea of vengeance and thinking its the only thing that matters.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, just steadily pulling the stretcher onwards through the sand. I stay quiet, in a stunned silence.

Childish? No, I…

I know it deep in my heart, that he is right, or at least partially. It is hard to digest, and I can’t say anything to deny it, my words catching in my throat.

I can feel tears welling up in the corners of my eyes, trailing down my cheeks and falling onto my clothes, wetting the fabric.

An image of Vicar comes to my mind, his rough and aged face, and his voice, ‘The look in your eyes when you hear the word Tulnar. It is all too familiar to me. I have seen many men wear it, and many of them fought without training, without preparation. I once wore that look, I sought vengeance with an unmatched fury. When I got it, I found no relief, losing more than I gained.’

I had brushed that off during the time, only thinking about kill the Tulnar that had devoured Karla. Even now, I still feel the urge to do so.

But I also feel that hollowness, that empty void that has been inside me since Vicar died. It has been there even before that, and I hadn’t noticed, I’d ignored it. Even while it was gnawing at me from the inside, consuming me. I had feed it my emotions, hoping to escape them.

Now though, they have started to come crashing back down on me. I can feel their crushing weight, and the pain is unbearable, but the truth in them is undeniable.

I am still weak, very, very, weak. The strength I have been chasing after has been something I have been distracting myself with, an illusion.

Sure, for a cripple, I have done the impossible. I am now a Lowsteel, and I have my own unique katra. I have powers that I am still trying to understand, and physical strength and skill far from what I used to be.

But I am still weak. Powerless in the face of my own psychological pain. Kamar was absolutely right that I am lost, and I have been flailing about in the darkness, trying to make sense of everything, trying to find a goal to work towards, a reason to live.

I bitterly laugh a bit, I’m really messed up, aren’t I?

I wipe the tears from my cheeks, laughing even harder. It is a deep, hearty laugh, something I haven’t experienced in a long time, not since the destruction of Amia.

I’m not sure why I am laughing. Maybe it’s at my own foolishness, or maybe my own pain, or even at the idea that I am strong, yet still weak.

I eventually come down from the high of emotions, a few fits of giggles running through me. Kamar doesn’t say anything, only a grunt that I will take as support.

What now, though?

I look at my arm. I still very much want to live, and I can’t help conjuring up what I said to Inik, and the dragon’s warning to me. I’ve been warned so many times, yet I ignored them.

Though this time I’m not going to ignore Kamar’s warning.

There is still the matter of Cereus, along with the Artifact that has grafted itself to my arm. I also now have a world on my shoulders to look out for as well.

There’s so much to do. To figure out and understand.

So what is it I am to do now? I would still like to attain vengeance for Amia, yes, but now I don’t feel the compulsion to throw everything away to attain it. I still wanted to get stronger.

I need a goal.

Looking up at Kamar’s back, and his massive shoulders, I decide I have one. I’ll help him. Help him find the villagers.

I’m not sure how I will do it, but I swear I will. I’ll work to bettering myself as well, in both physical strength, and to face my emotions.

It’s a mighty tall order, but I swear I will do it. I know it is going to take time, and I might not be able to do it all the way, But I’ll do it.

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath of the dry, cool night air of the desert, letting it out after a moment. I open my eyes, calmly staring at the night sky, the stars twinkling above and the moon shining through the slivers of cloud that cover it.

I blink, looking at what streams across the night sky. It is a cool blue in color, and quickly makes its way across the sky, a long trail following it.

A shooting star.

I smile as it vanishes across the horizon. I don’t need to make a wish. I’ll make it happen myself.

I’ll work towards getting stronger, to helping Kamar and to understanding my katra and its abilities, to survive. It’ll take time and effort, and frankly I am daunted by it, but I’ll make it happen.

For now though… We have to make it to Parasan.

As the elder thri-kreen had warned us, it is going to be a treacherous journey on foot. Though, if we can’t make it, I guess we can return to the sandship and wait for them to return to salvage it.

I wasn’t fond of the idea anymore than Kamar. My conversation with the queen still unnerved me, and her thinly veiled threat made me even less inclined to return.

I guess I better start figuring out how to make constructs. And how to summon Vel.

I’m still uneasy about what I have done to her. I have definitely changed her from what she was, and now she’s a literal weapon.

Not to mention she’s kind of creepy in that form.

The eyes was probably the most creepy part about her weapon form. I’m still not sure what exactly possessed me to do it, but I had done it and there is no turning back from it.

I sigh, looking up at the night sky.

A thought comes to my mind, and it takes me a second to force my mouth to ask. “Kamar, are we friends?”

He rumbles a chuckle, his shoulders shaking and the stretcher with it, I fight back the wince as my head is jostled a little. He stops a few seconds later, saying only, “Yes, I suppose we are.”

We continue on into the night, the desert dunes shifting with the wind and our shadow cast down onto the sand. The lumbering shape of a gorilla dragging a boy on a stretcher further into the desert, on towards the future.