<span style="color: #FF4000">Celris' Dream.<br/><br/>  On your way back towards the desert, the path your taking suddenly warps, bringing you directly to the center of your hometown.  In front of you is a campfire, burning bright.  Sitting around it are approximately twenty Feral beings.  Varying in both fur pattern, and size, each is unique in it's own way.  One such being catches your eye.  One of the youngest in the pack, not more than eight years, bares the same pattern as you.  Upon further examination and realization, you find that it is you.  This place is some sort of memory of your early years.  No Feral seems to notice as you approach, save yourself.  Young Celris stares at you with playful eyes, and bounds over to embrace you.<br/>"Kith!" she shouts, clearly pleased to see you.  "I thought I had lost you forever!"  Celris stares at you, clearly expectant of some sort of response.  As this scene plays out, slowly, the color drains from the scene, leaving everything, save yourself and Celris in black and white.  </span><br/><br/><span style="color: #4000BF">Ozbourne's Dream.<br/><br/>   The path you chose bore a heavy price, literally.  The weight of the souls above seems to press you into the ground.  Each step you take is mentally draining, as well as physically.  Eventually, however, the path stops.  In front of you is a bubbling pool of acidic lava.  The path has been consumed by the sheer heat.  Before you are able to move, two statues emerge from the ground next to you.  Each of these statues are perfect replicas of you.  The same thing happens again, this time to your right side.  These statues are also impressions of you, but without your wings.  They are made to look like the real you.  Suddenly, the pathway behind you collapses into the ground, and the entire landscape seems to follow suit until the only things you can see are yourself, the statues and the rocky platform on which you stood.  All around you, a sheer void of blackness seems to span, for what seems like eternity.  <br/><br/>Strangely enough, the statues begin to move.  Soon, the imperfect Ozbourne's engaged in combat with the perfect Ozbournes.  At first, neither seemed to win, but eventually the perfect Ozbournes were able to destroy one of their adversaries.  The remaining imperfect Ozbourne is thrust to the floor, each of it's enemies holding a blade to it's neck.  Both of which, turn to you, looking for some sort of verdict or confirmation.  What you do next is up to you.</span>