"And me fretting about not knowing is restful? Constantly watching corners, shadows, the rafters above. Are the guards outside trustworthy? What about the merchants bringing in supplies? Are their armed forces out there that vanished for a long while, and then came back without explanation for the absence and silence? All those and hundreds more are the questions I had to ask myself for three and a half millennia, Vorela, or a planet DIED. Horribly. By my own hand if they were LUCKY. I fought things that made Verdelet look boring and uninspired. I fought creatures that made the Lurker War look like a couple toddlers playing a game of happy slaps. I can not, and WILL NOT, rest until I have confirmed, to my own satisfaction, that it is 'safe.' Trust is a fragile thing, and I would HATE to end up having to start questioning all the Companions because one of them made a mistake a couple centuries back, and didn't bother telling anyone until it tries to stab me in the small of the back. Had it happen, the response was killing two thousand people. One man, one mistake, two thousand others died with him for it.<br/><br/>So, details. PLEASE.<br/><br/>I saw a timeline where Barid killed me permanently, and without me to buffer him and Verdelet, everything is dying. All the planes, the Beyonders are pressing in, THEY, the things that prey on Beyonders, are pressing in, and everything is dying to buy time to die slower. Not live, die a little slower. There was no peace, no understanding, no real hope. Just war, and the laughter of a billion, billion twisted creatures that made our demons look like saints as they screamed for one thing. More blood."