Something had changed.
T'erin couldn't put his finger on what it was, but it floated there, on the edge of his awareness. He reached for it, grasping, but it slipped numbly through his fingers. What could it be? What was different? He searched within himself, not quite knowing what it was he sought. Slowly, as if emerging from a thick fog, an idea formed. The pain was gone. It seemed so long since the pain had left him. He grimaced internally as the memory of it tickled the edges of his consciousness. It had only come in small waves at first, white hot and terrifying; but lately, it had stayed with him, carressed him, loved him, held him in its iron grip until he thought he might go mad. It had become a part of him -- and now it was no more. Did he miss it? He considered this for a moment. He wasn't sure... Perhaps he had gone mad, after all.
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