I am flying...I can finally spread my wings! I am gliding over a broad river...the sunset has turned its surface smooth like a mirror, and I see my reflection...it is as if another silver dragon is rising to meet me from the depths. But what is that? The scales on my chest are black, and the darkness is spreading over my body--

I wake up. A clear sky sways above me, blazing with heat. I am in human form. The red dust of the Wound clings to my cracked lips. Someone is carrying me on a stretcher made of shields and spears. I am so weak I can barely lift my hand to my face. 

(Boy, is that part familiar.)

The sight of my own hand terrifies me. It is black and the skin glistens like scales melted by fire. I probably ought to cry, but I only feel hatred and nausea. All these people around me...out of sympathy for them did I choose to leave the mountains, I gave up my flights over rivers, I went to the demons' lair...they don't have a scratch on them, but I am infected with foulness! It's not fair! My life is more precious than their pathetic existence! Oh, how I hate them in this moment! 

And then I suddenly feel shame. No, no! These are not my thoughts! The crusaders carrying me are my good friends. I am glad they did not suffer...but I hate them and myself so much! Pain and hatred pierce me all at once. It's all because of them...all because of them...someone walking beside me touches me, talks to me, but the only thing I hear is, "Your mentor...he will come, he will help..." and I lose consciousness. 

Tears stream down Lusilla's face from the pain and suffering in the vision. 

"What happened to her?"

"Terendelev spent a long time recovering from this moment. At one point a unit she was part of was ambushed, and she was infected with foulness. By the time you met Terendelev in Kenabres, she had gone through many trials and regained her former purity." 

"I don't care about her purity, I care that she was suffering." 

"Alas, with demons, the two are not always easily separated." 

"I understand. ...Do you know what happened next?"

"Alas, I do not. This scale has already told us all it will tell. Bring me something else of hers, and perhaps I can shed more light on her past."

"Oh, I did also scrape up some blood--" she fishes out a chunk of cemented blood and offers it to him. 

How many times has the moon died and been reborn since I've been here? I have lost count. My friends brought me here. They said goodbye to me, like always, but they looked at me like it was the last time they'd see me...cowards, insidious spawn! They were glad I was going to die! But I'll show them! Terendelev will live! A new Terendelev, whose eyes are finally open! 

I hear the rustling of wings and I emerge from the cave where I imprisoned myself. Who is it? A friend? An enemy? Sunbeams reflect off his scales as he hovers before me surrounded by a glowing halo. The gold dragon Halaseliax!

A part of me wants to fly to him and make a circle of honor around him, as any good student should. But the part of me that turned my scales black is ready to seize his gleaming throat. How dare he fly here, flaunting his purity and innocence! He wants to humiliate me! Drag me through the mud! But I will show him...

No, what am I thinking? My mentor has come all this way to save me, I know. He would never abandon me, someone called him to my aid! Moving heavily, I take flight to greet him, but my body, controlled by the foulness, straightens like an arrow. His vulnerable throat is so close--one strike, and I will destroy you, Halaseliax!

Lusilla gasps as the vision fades. 

"What next? What--I assume Halaseliax survived--"

"Certainly I have not heard elsewhere that Terendelev slew her teacher. But from this blood, I have no answer. However...I do think I know the place, from the vision, where she convalesced. I saw Sarkorian ruins, and a wide-branching tree next to them...when this crisis is over, if we are both still alive, come to me with a map of the Wound, and I will describe where to find it. If you have chance to venture within the boundaries of the Wardstones--" faint grimace, "--such as they may be at that time, you may find further answers there." 

"Okay. And...if I have cause to venture near that specific spot again, I'll see if I can identify any more...bits." 

"I do not know that I can continue spinning thread from pieces of a single corpse indefinitely, but I have no objection to trying for as long as they continue to provide answers." 

"My personal curiosity aside, it would also be nice if we could find out where they took her body." 

"It may be that that would be less useful than you hope, if such a place is not somewhere anyone could get to in time to prevent whatever they intend to do with it."

"Maybe not. It's still worth trying, though." 

"Good luck." 

"Thanks."

She makes herself useful for a little while--there are all kinds of things happening where "freedom of movement in three dimensions" and "strong" are really useful, especially since some of the intel from the Tower of Estrod involved a demon attack on the tavern in the near future. 

Eventually, Anevia shows up. She waits until a moment where it won't be awkward for Lusilla to disengage, and then says, "Hey. Irabeth wants to talk to you." 

"Sure! Isn't she super busy, though?"

"Yeah, and right now you're one of the things she's busy with. C'mon." 

Lusilla follows her. She debates mentioning that Ramien explained to her that Anevia and Irabeth are married, and congratulating Anevia about that being a thing, like, at all, but ultimately decides to keep on not making it apparent that she had had no idea about that. 

"Lusilla." Irabeth looks deeply tired. Her Lay On Hands deals with fatigue-qua-fatigue, but there's a certain emotional exhaustion to being in charge of a situation like this that it can't quite wipe out.