In the aftermath of that little skirmish there had been a slow, languid despression which hung over him. The victory had been hollow, and the voice of the Spirit, granting him the command of his mind, was no more a guide, but a command within. With every dragon slain, Rein could almost feel parts of his own very humanity chip away, and the echoes of the past—of his parents screaming, of fire consuming his village—relentlessly played in his mind.
He met several people on his travels; mostly men and women caught in the middle of the furor of the dragon wars. They called him a hero, a savior. Yet, in their eyes, Rein only saw a reflection of his own darkness.
And one night, as he sat under a tree, the voice continued whispering in his ear: "You are becoming what you always were meant to be, Rein. Do not doubt."