All across his line of vision swirled a terrible myriad of darkness, shade, and confusion, twisting about in paths and patterns too intricately wound to be followed without eliciting even further maddening confusion within the confines of his horribly pounding skull. All around the shadows swam, billowing and spiraling, dancing and turning, to and fro, in and out, back and forth (which is not quite the same thing as 'to and fro'), and every other sort of defined movement an object could possibly take, not to mention several splotches taking no distinct or definite motion at all, merely swimming about his line of peripheral at complete random. Gradually the shadows and splotches began to bloat and expand, their inky black tendrils stretching out to blot away every remaining flicker of light and color, until the man's head was sinking in an endless void of black, slowly and painfully choking his consciousness away.....And then, white; pure, brilliant white, brighter than anything he had ever laid eyes on before, not even within his most vivid of dreams. Gradually, he regained his senses and awareness bit by bit, first beginning by realizing that he was in fact breathing, and slowly trickling its way through the rest of him. Where, where am I?.....Who am I? I should....know that, shouldn't I?..S...Sarae...Tsaraem....Tsaraem....Fe...no....Fa...Faul..en...gard?....Faulengard...Faulengard!?....No..they....killed..burned...blood.....death....my wife, my children...No!!
Suddenly, like a dilapidated old dam that had been breaking down at last releasing its waters, so did King Tsaraem Faulengard's horrid memories flood back into his mind; the pride, the arrogance, and the horrible grieving that followed. More than a third of his nation had perished that day all because of his own folly; men, women, children, friends, colleagues, and his own family, all because of his own selfish haughtiness. A deep aching pain groaned deep within his chest, and his knees nearly gave way to the overwhelming burden of emotion, but he remained steady enough to keep upright. No...Where? Without realizing, he ran his pale withered hands through his prematurely grey-streaked hair as he for the first time truly regarded his surroundings, though still not noticing the others present in the chamber with him. "White...marble, yes?....Marble, marble, white mar-the palace!" His own palace had not anywhere featured marble of any sort, but insanity had long since taken root in his mind and blended all of his knowledge together in a homogenous soup of memories. "Yet...no fire...no blood.....Alive! Surely they must live!" Frantically, he spun about the room, shouting out the names of his family at the top of his lungs, hooting and hollering with pure elation at the demented notion of his family's survival....No answer. "What?...Where are my children, and my wife!?...Wait.." For the first time, Tsaraem realized that the room he found himself in was not located within his palace, and just then noticed the strange gathering of people standing in the room alongside him. "What place have I been taken to!?" he demanded, sounding almost sane for a moment. "I demand to know my whereabouts this instant, along with whoever has taken me captive here!? I'll not remain standing in the shadows; tell me what is happening, for goodness sakes!"
