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He felt something stir within him. An unwanted notion. A sense of urgency that betrayed this otherwise overwhelming desire to rest.

“They need help,” he said. Which surprised him, because that wasn’t the voice talking again. Not Rasalased. That was him. His own voice. Singular and distinct.

“Yes,” came the voice again. “But I have been monitoring them. And they have been managing. Perhaps this scene looks worse than it is.”

Ah. Asad saw what he meant. The pursuers were giving chase, but they were also themselves being chased by more members of Hahl Duxan. Walls of materialized metal appeared, barring their path, shielding innocents, and skewering the pursuers. It was the work of that one fellow in the back, Asad was fairly sure. Such a familiar face. The Lord Duxan’s eldest son. What was his name again?

Malik Duxan. Yes. A formidable young man, Asad had always thought. It was a relief to see him there--and alive, for that matter.

And then there was Jada. She was defending herself but still not drawing too much attention--in part, perhaps, because Imas was drawing so much attention in her stead.

It was a worrisome sight, to be sure. But they were handling themselves well. As he might’ve expected. They were Sandlords, after all.

The sense of urgency abated, and he felt his weariness wash over him again, somehow even stronger than before.

“Ah,” said the voice. “Dammit.”

Mm?

“Well,” the voice went, “I suppose this is fine, for now. You do need your rest. But there are many more scenes like this playing out--and far worse ones. The ruination of our ancestral homeland is a matter that cannot be ignored, forgotten, or forgiven. I would have you recover quickly, Young Lion, and not only rescue our scattered kin but take vengeance for them, as well.”

So many words. Agh. Too much to think about.

The voice sighed.

Asad did not understand why.

“If your condition degrades much further, I fear I may need to do something quite drastic.”

Degrade? Condition? Was he not resting? How could anything degrade while resting?

“A complicated matter, that. You must stay with me in order to recover, but the longer you stay, the more my soul will merge with yours. Which is not my desire. You must become a conduit for my power, not a vessel for my soul. No matter what anyone says, I am not a god. My flaws are too great and too numerous. I would not have you inherit them.”