The Star that wants to die.

Morn shot through the sky, rising far above the island and into the clouds. The wispy nimbuses fled from his reach, a hole torn through by his passing. The wind formed from his rise creating a rift in the clouds.

Up past the drifting clouds, Morn tore through space itself- reaching the outer realm. A sound like glass shattering and fabric stretching roared in his ears, causing an intense headache. He groaned in pain as he continued surging into the stars. His head spun as blood flowed away from his brain, forced to his feet by the speed of his travel.

The sky grew colder and colder and his lungs strained harder and harder for air, until eventually they found none to speak of. High amongst the stars, drowning in their brilliance, Morn came to a sudden gentle stop. He clutched at his chest, desperately trying to draw in a breath.

Through instinct, he began to emit Vaihniir from his pores. A cloud of black fog filled his surroundings. The Vaihniir seeped into his mouth and nose and down into his lungs, relieving his mind's desperate need for something, anything to breathe. As the fog passed through his nose and across his tongue, the scent of rain filled his mind.

Moments later, with his need for air at least temporarily alleviated, Morn looked around at the brilliant starry landscape. With a thought, Vaihniir flowed into his brain, causing Morn to hallucinate once more. A red star soon appeared before him, glowing brightly enough to sear his eyes.

With a pained scream, Morn closed his eyes- an image soon outlined itself within his mind, forged into existence by the red star's light. A colossal giant with a collapsed chest and mangled limbs, burning with flames, floated amidst a sea of stars.

As his brain processed the image, a howling voice underpinned by furious whispers and the crackle of flames filled his ears, rendering him unable to think.

'Kill me- Kill me- Kill me- Kill me-'

The howling didn't cease, only growing louder and louder, the pain multiplying tenfold with each repetition of the furious words.

'End me- End me- End me-'

As the pain reached an unimaginable level, Morn felt a falling sensation. His body was flung back the way it had come, down through the endless field of stars, through the atmosphere, the clouds, an illusory dome, a castle roof, down into a small room.

With a gasp, Morn sat up in the small bed, sweat dripping from his forehead. The whispers had disappeared, finally relieving his mind of their torment. The image of the burning mangled giant slowly disappeared from his mind, leaving behind a rune in the shape of a smiling mouth with an eye balanced between its upper and lower front teeth. The rune seemed to embed itself in Morn's mind, latching onto his very soul. After the process finished, Morn finally came to his senses.

"A dream? No, a vision? Was it real, was it another hallucination? Who is the giant, why did it summon me?"

Many questions burned in Morn's mind, but without answers, he eventually set them aside. For a moment he planned to ask Oscairo about the vision, but then decided against it.

'I'll wait for the moment. When and if I experience that vision, or dream, or whatever it was again, I can contact Oscairo through the item he mentioned. For now, I will just treat it as a dream.'

Massaging his temples, Morn stood from the bed. Looking around, he noticed that the room had gained a bookshelf, a desk, a doorknob, a mirror, and a dresser in the time he had been asleep. Seeing the dresser, Morn removed his sweat drenched clothes and browsed through the dresser, looking for suitable clothes.

As he looked through the many clothes of varied styles, the flowing robes of Nauv, the revealing clothes of Teka, the bombastic designs of Palkian-wear, he recalled the reality of his situation.

He would soon be leaving Oscairo's island, returning to the world. He would have to embark on a treacherous journey across Malsata in the name of rescuing Oscairo, how should he begin? Should he return to Yol? Would he even have a house when he returned, or would he have been presumed dead, his possessions sold to his neighbours by his landlord.

'No, without Azur, there's nothing for me in Yol. If I return, I'll have nothing but the harvesters awaiting me. But then, where should I go? At the moment, what I need most is strength, enough that I can save anyone that becomes important to me. To do that, I need to hunt Leviathans. But I can't just kill innocent people… I can try to hunt criminals, then? Their bounties would also earn me money, which I'm nearly out of at the moment.'

At last, Morn arrived at a conclusion. He quickly dug through the various clothes in the dresser, putting together a rather unique outfit.

He combined the cape-like hooded long-coats of Yol that he was used to with a black flowing robe from Nauv and the belts, bandoliers, and long boots of an outfit from Palk. He used a letter opener from the desk to tear apart the robe, shortening it to stop himself from stepping on the hem and tripping himself.

He then donned a glove over his prosthetic hand to hide the prosthetic. The flared robe hid the shape of his Folia-lance, it also allowed him to easily don and remove the robe without getting it caught on the attachment to his prosthetic hand.

When he completed the outfit, he transferred most of his Alkimiya equipment to the pouches on his new belt and bandolier, then stuffed most of the larger items, including his drill, into a one-strap bag. Finally, he stared into the mirror to take stock of his new outfit.

The black robe hung to his knees, frayed at the bottom where he had cut it to length. His pants flared where they tucked into his knee high leather boots. The belts and bandolier kept the robe closed tightly, hiding the simple undershirt he wore beneath. When his arms were down at his sides, the long-coat covered his body, hiding the many items on his belt.

However, he could still easily reach under the coat- grabbing whatever item he might need. When he wore the hood, his face was partially obscured, making him seem mysterious. A slight bulge on his left arm was the only sign of his Folia-lance, its presence hidden, allowing for surprise attacks in the future, should he need to make use of the weapon.

The mix of styles from different great islands lended him a wise aura, making him appear well travelled. The bag slung over his shoulder made him seem like he was on his way somewhere in a hurry. Additionally, his untrimmed shoulder length hair gave him the look of a hermit, one who would spend months away from civilization, only returning to maintain a sense of humanity. Overall, he looked like a mysterious traveller, ready for a fight.

'Perfect!' Morn thought, 'Now I just need an alias, something intimidating. I can't use my real name or the harvester foundation might track me down and try to drag me back to find out what happened on our voyage.'

After thinking for some time, Morn sighed. 'I'm no good at naming, perhaps I can ask Oscairo.'

With his outfit complete, Morn felt ready, almost eager to depart. He began to grow excited for his new life. As he exited the room and made his way through the halls, looking for Oscairo, a thought crossed his mind.

'Perhaps I was always meant for this, an adventure. I was never meant to live a life of luxury or peace, rotting away in debauchery in a nice home in Caslac. Ah, it still sounds great, but something about it feels inherently wrong now. Maybe it's loss that has changed me, or perhaps it's being a Leviathan. Well, whatever the reason, I never want to go back to just getting by each day. From now on, I will live life as adventurously as I can, I'm done being passive.'

With a smile on his face, Morn finally stumbled upon Oscairo. The pirate sat happily at a small table on the first floor of the castle. He sipped from a steaming cup of tea as Morn arrived.

"My friend! Goodmorn- oh, oh that is funny. Good-morning!" Oscairo chuckled amiably, "I bet you're hungry, here, I prepared some food for you. Don't worry, it's not a hallucination! I procured some fish for you. Sit down, eat!"

Morn joined Oscairo at the table. Oscairo continued enjoying his tea, occasionally asking Morn about current events. Morn ate the food, finding it surprisingly delicious. Eventually, he finished the meal. Oscairo then stood from the table, beckoning for Morn to follow.

They walked through the halls to the door Morn had entered upon first arriving at Oscairo's castle. Together, they strolled down to the beach, where Morn had awoken. When they arrived, Oscairo put a hand on Morn's shoulder and smiled genially.

"Morn, my friend. Though it hurts my heart, we must now bid farewell! I have some parting gifts and words to share with you before you set off."