He sighs and nods. "As you wish sir." He lifts the shield and sword, then walks off to check on Yullars tent. Finding it erect, he slips inside, and looks for Hertla. "Hertla? Yullar sent me to get his gear polished." He paces a bit, thinking to himself. [i]What was that about the Grey Wyrms? I thought they died off decades ago.[/i]

	He shakes his head slightly. [i]Just because I wield the magic of a adult doesn't mean I am one. They all seem to expect so much from me. But what can I do? I never asked for my power. It was given to me. Do the gods just want me to suffer?[/i] He stops. [i]But I know there was something under the Anvil. I heard it. I saw it....but...when did I see it?[/i] He begins trembling. [i]Why do I seem to have memories that aren't mine? What wrong with me?[/i] He looks at his hands, startled to see the brands on his palms glowing. [i]What's happening to me?[/i]

	The glow fades, and he collapses to his knees, suddenly exhausted. He hears faint whispers, too quiet to be understood, and gasps, standing on shaking legs. [i]"Who-who's there?"[/i] He stumbles out of the tent, looking for the voices. The whispers continue chanting, and he curls up in a ball. "St-stay away!" He turns, and sees his reflection, his eyes black as a moonless night. The shadows begin moving around him, and he collapses to the ground, unconscious. The last thing he sees is the shadows wrapping around him, then everything goes black.