Will work on a farewell-ish post, but somebody had requested my role at one point.

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The fog within recedes... memories rush forward and engulf my senses

I am walking... no... I am carried by a woman. I know her... This woman is...
mother. Yes, mother. I look to her eyes, so blue. So blue. She is peace.
A sudden whistle and dull thud as she lurches forward... I feel searing white
heat. I look down... the arrow has pierced my tiny limb. The arrow protrudes
rom mother's chest. I look to her eyes, so blue. So blue. She is fear. Her
eyes...

...empty.

The crimson ooze drains from her mouth and spills over my body. Basked in heat
as the ice swallows mother. Darkness comes to me from all sides, stalking my
vision. The fog threatens to engulf me, I look to her eyes, so blue. So blue.

She is death.

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Another memory assaults my peace, stronger than the last.

The dense forest canopy allows only thin shafts of sunlight entrance to the
forest floor below. Silence... There are others around me. Allies or enemies
I know not... nor do I care. The path is clear before me.

SNAP

The twig. The only warning before the heat, the intense heat. I look down and
the forest floor is bare. Bare and burning, the scorched earth ripe with the
putrid stench of cooking flesh. The screams... the others flail about in pain.
They crawl... stagger... run away from the danger that has no source. They are
blindness. I too feel the urge to escape... I do not move.

Before me... a great oak, untouched by the flames. The winds howl, the fires
burn, yet the trunk will not bend... will not yield. It is strength. I look
to the forest... the path is yet before me, ever clear beyond the oak.

I am the oak. The path... my path, set before me. The howling winds, the
searing inferno, the torrent of fear. None sway me from my path. It is clear.

I am sight.

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The visions continue as does the pain, unrelenting. . . a petulant child
demanding my attention.This focus I give freely, in return for the wealth
of memories hidden across the fog. With each step upon the path, I learn
more of who and what I am fated to become. The cacophany of soul ribbons
dance in the corners of my vision... They flit against my skin, teasing with
their velvet touch. Willingly, I stride into the unknown, mindful of the
teachings that shape me and how I begin to shape the very world around me.

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The fog swirls before me, creeping tendrils infested with the palpable chill.

Through the haze before me a figure turns. I am met by my own face, my own
form... Yet something is different. This figure stands poised, a present
strength oozing from his very pores. His motions... fluid and without
barrier.

The figure breathes deeply. . . His eyes close as he exhales and a frosty
plume engulfs me. His pain... my pain, is no more. Free.

I am aware.

As the fog once more clouds my vision, the reminders of a hundred wounds stab
at my awareness, they too have awakened from the dream.