It had pained me. The knowledge of the great magicks that kept me alive during our quest for the great worm. Constantly being killed, only to be brought back with no memory of recent events. When Gregor had finally spoken to me about it even he, the mighty warrior, had shed tears during the retelling. He had watched me slip from great heights only to reappear next to him, the smoky vacuum of the void whisping away behind me as I obliviously journeyed on. Being the one pawn of my creation, he had been beside me for nearly my entire time as the Arisen. It had taken, for me, mere months to reclaim my heart and slay the mighty dragon. For him it must have felt like years, watching me perish, without memory, often times forgetting about him entirely. Early on it must have been so frightening, watching my demise, over and over, crying out to me in desperation as I gasped out my last breath.