Ever since he had found that heap of ashes, prince Dagon Varkys had gotten no sleep, and no relief from those haunted eyes of the red-headed woman. Every time he tried to rest, his brain would be flooded with those deep blue hues that had allured him for some reason.
There were so many things he had wanted to ask her - and now he would never get the chance. Why had she come back?
It bothered him endlessly to where he had refused his dinner for the evening as his brain mulled around in the slew that was his scrambled memory. Things had started to fall apart the more he replayed his past. Here and there he realized that large swaths of time had been erased from the things he knew to be true, and it slowly started to drive him a little insane.
How does one cope when they discover they are not who they think they are?
Had Azrael used him just like Ilsandra said he had?
