Caught in the throes of a dream, king Laggarma flew. He followed the spirit road toward the dim horizon of the Astral Sea, streaks of silver stars passing by at impossible speeds. As he flew, the stars whispered to him, fragments of thought and memory that drew king Laggarma's attention. He reached for these shreds of dreams, but they slipped through his fingers like wisps of cloud. All that remained were the whispers.
"Come back, Laggarma, you're straying …"
"What was that? The silver shadow, don't touch it …"
"Please guide me … I beg you … I've been lost so long …"
"Gods, I'm flying … it's … magnificent …"
Whispers turned to weeping.
Laggarma turned away from his fellow travelers. These were old memories, old dreams. Was he doomed to be trapped in the past the way he'd been trapped in the stone?
