Another sleepless night. More flashes or the slaughter. The sound of that scream pierces my ears nightly. My comrades rise from where they lie and mock me. Then I discover I am suckling at my mother, only to find a mouth filled with blood. I wake with sweat soaking my clothes and the cold stars stare down at me.My mind goes back to my study. The frustration, the failures, the humiliation and I cannot help but wonder if Garrick mistook my talent for spell-singing or if I am missing something, some key to unlock a different side of my talent. My war chants have their appeal: it is easier to vanquish a foe when he falls down asleep at my feet, but I read in the Library in Spellgard of the exploits of Alantha T'sarran and I wonder at it. Pure channeling of the Al'Noth is something apart from what I do. I hope to one....*A water stain blots out the rest*