A/N: the story is officially finished. I finished chapter 65 a few days ago, officially making this the lpngest standalone story I've ever written. Chapters progressively get longer from here, up to a 7,000+ word behemoth toward the end, as Rahotepa's world consciousness sharpens.

As for this chapter, then it's the beginning of the fourth arc...aka: Rahotepa learns Common.

Sweetness...pure sweetness...how I love you so.

You linger for so short a time...fleeting...mocking. You go unused, and so you dissipate. Disappear. Go to waste. But while you are here...I feel so good. I want it, I want it.

Those bricks staring back at me...I do not care. They do not annoy me...at least not for the time being. But when I am awoken...I feel so relaxed. I take my time observing my surroundings. For the first time in the only life I remember, I do not feel irritated at being woken up.

The candles have long since gone cold, a testament to the foul rituals of the ice trolls. A curved sacrificial dagger lies on the ground in front of me, so close to where I assume my front feet are that I can barely see it...I still can not move. Beyond the dagger, I see...

...ew...

When the magic of the witch doctor left him and...entered me, I suppose, he was hurt. I can remember...yes, now I remember. He was burned without fire. Most of his mana bled out into the air around us, escaping my sucking grasp in an inefficient manner, but that bleeding hurt him. Singed him. Melted him. His leathery hide looked like the wax of the candles, like dried liquid the color of his icy blue hide and his magenta trollblood. And now it is on the floor of my cell...old. Aged. Dry.

For how long was I knocked out?

The door is still propped open by their wooden planks...I can see the wall of the hallway outside. And I can hear that I am not alone.

Yes...I woke up! Why did I wake up?

Footsteps...frantic footsteps of people who are fleeing in mortal terror. Small people with small feet...wait, how can these people be so small?

Wait...why are they speaking Vrykul? Vrykul are not small.

I am not fluent in Vrykul...not like Zandali and Nerubian. But I know enough somehow, from my former life. Enough to know that...on second thought...this is not Vrykul.

It sounds like Vrykul...so very much like it, but softer and more poetic. It lacks the harsh KH sound. Who are these small people?

I hear...I know a few words of Vrukul...the little feet are so close...is he shouting "in here"?