Damien sighed heavily but quietly into his beer.
Thoughts too far away from the newly-shifted reality running through his mind, he was barely aware of other people around him in the dimly lit common room of a small way-side dae.
Now that he knew the inner essence of Gerald Tarrant had in fact survived, he surely must be able to return to his own life.
Trying to convince himself of that, he’d left Black Ridge Pass one week ago after lingering both too long and not long enough, and made his way to here, to Yamas.
Here he intended to stay, at least for a while, and wait for a ship to brave the Serpent before the first autumn storm.
The town held no memories, and was as good place as any to try and mend his broken heart and his aching soul.
Maybe back in Ganji he could start to regain his life. But knowing himself much better by now he had to admit that –in best case– it would be an imitation of life.
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