Geryman tipped his head back, allowing the last drops of whiskey to flow into his mouth and down his throat. He then signaled to the bartender to refill the glass. This was how he had spent much of his days these days. He still schemed and strategized, debated and delegated. But his mind was often elsewhere, tormented beyond its normal state of anguish. His whole life he had been an outsider, different. Harry Augustina had nurtured that difference, made him feel special, though it was now evident to Geryman that Augustina had not known what he was getting into. Over the past few years Geryman’s abilities had grown, with no clear bounds and no guide on how to utilize them. It all became too much. He had not been feeling himself, or known what his true self was. Yes, he often felt powerful, purposeful. But at times also powerless – like a leaf floating on a river, subject the whims of the rapids.

He had heard that Urissa died in childbirth and that Glendan and Carenf were caring (hopefully) for the baby. He knew he was to blame even though his exact memory of his involvement remained cloudy. Since then he noticed that his powers felt like they were gradually diminishing. Was it due to the loss of his sister? Was it the child? This is what he contemplated as he drank. And it was on one of these late nights of reflection that he and Carenf communicated telepathically – their first communication since the Battle of Ballard.

Today someone was taken from me
Motives remain unclear
But it has to do with us
Together, let’s determine what the future will be
Our end draws near
As one will walk away victorious

They would meet the following day. To finish it all. He went home to get some rest.

Sober and somber
Wits useless against the malaise
Late night drunk
Beacon of light punctures the haze

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