Time

The cool night air flowed freely through Soren’s hideout, the only light produced by a solitary candle in his study. He looked at the leather bound journal on his desk, his headache present but rather mild for a change. He had seen someone at the gathering for the tailor’s grand opening, another familiar face. The memories surfaced like pockets of air in a stagnant pond, only to quickly burst and recede. The people of this land were mostly strangers in his eyes, but a select few stood out among the rest.

He flipped through the pages of the journal, reading the notes he had left his future self during his journey to find what he had lost. The names of his parents, his former companions, those he fought with and for, and those he held close. Only a few of these names he could recall, and why they were significant.

Flask in hand he walked out into the moonlight, overlooking the lands.

“I must find a cure, there has to be a way..”