This search, this errand, is perhaps a terrible idea. Why did I think I could undertake such a thing. There is a beast, come from the forrest like the black beast I have fought before, but smarter, talking, and white. He knows. He knows I found the stone, the orb of the gods hidden deep in the wilds. He knows I played the songs, though I don't know if he knows why. He came to the village and tracked me down. And I would have fought him. One of us would have killed the other. I would have probably died again. But now I want to find him. Is this power I feel part of some curse? Is Faermorne laughing at me from the beyond? I won't be anyone's hound, not for anything. I AM NOT a beast. A monster maybe, but I am not one of those things. I fear these changes I feel. I feel it all the time now, pulling, calling me to the wilds. Maybe I should go back to Esterwell. Maybe I should I DONT RUN. I stand. I STAND. I know what I believe in. And I will hold fast through the fire and through the gale. I AM Horace Lyndsay, I am the one that stands and fights.