The Adunian man bitten with snow arrived at the Enchantry. His vision fuzzy, he walked with a cane. His body was weak and frail, breath turning to frost on the cold mountain as he maneuvered his way up. His dull eyes staring up at The Enchantry as he called out, fingers shaking. This was his final hope, for the time being, there was not much left for him to do in his life. He had been through nation to nation; banished. Been through person to person; rejected. Been from lover to lover; heartbroken. A lonely man with himself and the void left. There was not much hope for him anymore, and his form had grown tired and worn with the void. Since sixteen, twenty long years gone past, he had been learning. The man had been through more than most had been at his younger age. He'd experienced the void, he'd experienced the drain of the Sanctum, and seen the wonders of the holy. The void was his only solace left, a faulty friend a faulty guide. A giving cancer that grew upon his subconscious. Shame and hate filled him only now, and the longing for a love shared but never received fuzzy and long ago. - From ripped shreds of memories to vivid and terrible recollections. He had prepared for anything to happen, letters were strewn about his person.

The Enchantry. A refuge where he hoped to go and seek pity upon his poor soul, wrecked and beaten by other nations for good enough reason. The man had been through it all, with a drive that was crooked and scornful. A child's mind, not receiving what it wanted so it threw a series of fits hoping to be noticed, hoping to be held. Though the endless unsatisfaction with not being able to truly feel what he needed most, or believed he needed most in himself drove him to different and strange edges. Titter-tottering on the brink of either side. Hoping that one day one would bring him to cave in, hoping that one would bring him to another. - To bring him to the satisfication he so desired and ruined with his own jealousy and hate. Hatred for himself, not for others. Jealousy for what he could have been and should have been in his life. - For what might have and might have not been. To leave this all behind was a dream not lost in the snows for his wishful mind. His glove wrapped upon itself into a fist, going to bang upon the door. Each hit brought back a memory for him.

Thoughts of his past, who he was and who was meant to become. Thoughts of meeting the old sagely man Elindor, helping him and trying to be nice to him. Kind words uttered by him, criticism and help. Direction and wisdom that the boy should have taken to heart, rather than to mind. To teach him to manipulate, to teach him to steal, to teach him to trick and show others something that they could not understand. To understand the mind, and to show its tangled mess of complexity in words verbose and meaning impactful. - To still not understand this, even with the best of effort. --- A mistake for the young mage as he took it to his head, to think he was powerful. To believe that he was to be creator of his own destiny, rather than the observer and passenger of it. Within a great bore a lackluster man, with twisted sense.

Thoughts of the now, and gaps in it. Mutterings of recent events the man did not understand. Though horrible things beyond his reach and own knowing. Outside the scope of his perceivable memory that was still left intact. Manipulation of ones he loved, for reasons he did not understand himself. An unsatiable lust, meeting many women and cheating on spouses. He had ruined the ones who loved him and trusted him. Those who had given him a second chance. A burning memory seared through still, to what could have been in his life. A sad fact for him. A missing love that was returned to him but could never truly be fulfilled. One he ruined with jealousy and hatred. One he ruined with those he met, and what he wanted. - Judgment clouded, want overshadowing. A misunderstanding and the plain fact that what he wanted that drove him so forcefully towards destruction was something that would only bring others grief in the future. Hope to fall once and for all after his own trust had shattered. Others about him, he thought, could not be trusted. He did not feel safe in his own skin. A constant desire to imagine one in the shoes of another that he could never bring into the fold of it all. - Bigger than they might have thought. A deeper thought and a deeper purpose for love and loneliness. The taste of being loved had caught the man, a feeling he had never felt too truly in his youth. Safety, and Security. He felt bored because he knew that it was not exactly what he was searching for. He was searching for not something in general, but for what he believed he needed. Sleepless nights and sleepless days.

To now, a burning flame still left within him. A flame to still be good, to still find love. A hopeless dream it was, as he tried to show love, he tried to show others he cared and felt, all for naught. A brutish stranger he was to many. A man they heard the name of, and saw signs about and thought that he was not who he truly wished to be. An idealistic person he was,  a fool to think he could not be brought to his end. To bear his name with pride. To show that he was not afraid when that's exactly what his essence was. A fearful man with no purpose, searching desperately for something to do, something to say, something to see. he wanted to settle down, but he was no good at that. He did not handle boredom well. A history of high hopes lead to a small and deflated ego, being hidden by a frail weak disguise that was him inflating it to a massive size, where he eventually began to believe his own lies. A manipulator at heart, wanting to pull on the strings, to bring emotions of others out. To bring what he wanted to himself. In his blindness, he could have seen that what he wanted could have been there if he was just patient.




  Approaching now, his banging was done. The snow fell above him and the door was opened. A glowing figure in the mists was cleared before him, glowing with green, aura strong and voidal presence great. He greeted Nazorean by name in near confusion and seemingly interest. He brought him up, asking questions and speaking of the things he heard of Nazorean before. They both were to sit. The Archon before Nazorean stared at him.

The Archon Sarrion stared upon the figure of the Adunian. Voice reverberating strangely and faintly to the poor-sighted man. Nazorean stood there, very frail, emotions pouring through him as he thought. His eyes never focusing as the Archon beckoned him to stand before him. He did so. Nazorean's dull almond eyes flashed with recognition of the Archon. His form moving closer to Sarrion.  The glowing spectral figure before him reached to his side, pulling out a dagger to the Adunian did not react, the poor man being to frail at the moment to resist, tears in his eyes he looked pitifully up to the man, before being stabbed. He fell to the ground, onto his knees, vision finally fading with a hard thud upon the ground. The Archon staring down at the man, sheathing the bloody knife. Nazoreans tale had ended. Letters found in his bag were sent out.