Mind is a tricky thing. It eludes you with so many things, but hope is your greatest enemy. Slowly, you try to remember why you are here. Some false sense of security, relief, familiarity, despair and bitter memories took you away from the institute and to Shurima. You don't clearly remember how the visit to the Institute of War went, not beyond that you found out that you are prone to panic attacks when surrounded by voidlings. Malzahar was there surveying the ruins and dealing with him was harder than you recall. You hardly remember how you got where you are, with confusing thoughts plaguing your mind.

And then, back to the present time.

Air. Lack of, more specifically.

It's hard to think straight when you can't breathe and chastise yourself for realizing too late. Perhaps… you are suicidal or a very unique breed of idiot for being able to take a nap with a sandstorm coming. Still, you fight for your dear life, or more specifically, your immortal existence.

You curse the weight of your weapon that keeps dragging you down. It's not like the first time you got trapped on quicksand or the likes, but it doesn't mean it is an experience you like to repeat.

Anyway, the details aren't important as you struggle to reach surface. You swallow sand, gasp for the air that isn't there, panics and rages.

For whatever gods out there you… wait a moment. Realization struck you as in, dumb fuck, you are nearly a god yourself! No need to ask for help from someone that isn't there. Time to show yourself what true ascension means and get out of this mess.

Refusing to have such a moronic death, you growl, commanding your death trap to move away from you, while magic runs and boils through your body. The turmoil increase, you grow, till you roar against the sand and finally feel free to breath. Coughing sand, your meal and bile, you finally manage an intake of air. But it hurts, and you cough again, inhales more sand and the pain gets worse. Again, you growl but the sandstorm still rages and it ignores you. Fury blinds your mind as you charge. You take your enemy head on, roaring, cursing and slashing the air with your weapon, lost on a maddened frenzy. You go on for who knows for how long, till you are exhausted and your surroundings calm down.

Victory!

.

.

.

Aaand you black out.

The sun is long gone when you wake up. Cold threatens you, but it isn't a worthy adversary anymore, so you pay it no mind. You learnt how to resist the elements a long time ago but it looks like shit still happens. Better keep your guard up.

Regardless of, well… you and the elements, you are alive. Time to sort out priorities.

Getting up, you decide to continue your travel. Using the stars as your guide, you take off, not sure where your destiny is, as long you are far away from your homeland. This cursed land full of memories.

Hallucinations are very helpful – as if – and you lost track of time.

Relying on your immortality to go on, the sun does it work, nearly frying you alive and almost succeeding if you weren't used to this. Slowly the scenery chances, from the blazing sun and golden sand to a darker land. Grass spreads out, bushes lay around and tree rises from the ground, taller, harder. Even the ground seems to have become stone.

Voodoo lands, not a great place to be.

However, you decide to pay the Dark Child a visit. Well, maybe Annie isn't a child anymore, after all, losing track of time make such things hard to tell. But it's not like it will stop you. It never held you back before.

To find the human colony wasn't a hard task, but people aren't too willing to let a giant crocodile walk around freely. In your defence, they attacked first. Those stinking humans, with rotten hearts and full of misunderstandings, are no match for you. It's a piece of a bloody cake to get through them. But you aren't here to dwell into a senseless bloodbath, even though you enjoy it too much for your own good.

Will you ever admit it out loud?

Never.

Anyway, all the screams and bits of human flesh being scattered around does the trick, and the Dark Child comes to meet you. And it burns, cursed be that bear of hers. Stunned with the fireworks raining down, you manage to steal a glance at her. She's slightly older, but not too much difference from what you can tell.

How long have you been lost?

Well, right now there are more pressing issues at hand. The pyromaniac is giggling like a maniac, like a lovely kindred soul.

Oddly enough, it takes you out of your stupor.

Admiring the girl behaviour, you dive into the flames and slash and dice through the blazing stuffed bear. You reach her, only to be welcomed by a fireball right on your face. Bravery only got you so far and Tibbers will catch up soon. Refusing to give up on your pursuit, you maul the flames and, somehow, manage to cut her shoulder.

Her scream makes you wonder if it is a new move the child developed.

Damn it.

You use the opening to grab her throat, paying no mind to your blazing scales and the pain, as the adrenaline takes over your senses.

The bear, which was slashing at your back, vanishes, and you watch her eyes widen in horror as she tries to breathe. A mocking laugh leaves your lips as you finally manage to say something.

"I came here to talk, child."

Truth be told, it took an otherworldly effort to spill those words without biting her head off. You let her go, only to face flames cascading upon you again. It takes every ounce of willpower you have to hit her with the dull side of your blade, in quick three strikes. She finally falls unconscious, and you realize that you hit her too hard.

She will survive.

But by the second day, you aren't so sure. Well, she is still breathing, but hadn't woken up since that clash. You hack your brain for things to do to help her survive, in vain. You never needed to think about saving a life. Somehow, luck is on your side, and against all odds, she wakes up upon the fourth day. It's hard to gather food on a petrified forest, but you manage to find water and keep her wounds clear.

The entire wait wasn't worth the trouble. She is feverish and knows little to nothing – which isn't true at all, but for you, is same as useless trivia.

Well.

Time to hit the road again.