I'm dying, she’s killing me…

She’s covering my mouth while stabbing me in the side so I can’t scream out for help, I’m going to die, stabbed to death by a vengeful, misguided tribeswoman.

I’m going to die with a horribly itchy hood wrapped around my face and a dirty rag shoved over my mouth.

I’m dying in the ruined remains of a half completed watchtower.

Worse, I’m going to die with nothing to show for my life.

I’m dying and I haven’t even truly lived.

I haven’t even seen my family in years and now there’s no chance of that changing.

I’m dying and there’s not going to be a single person who will remember me, not in a war like this.

What will happen to Phaeraxion? What will happen to me?

Suddenly, I’m falling, I don’t have the straight nor the will to open my eyes, I just ready myself for the impact.

But it never comes, instead I find myself being gently lowered to the floor, a symphony of ripping sounds accompanies my descent.

The only thing more gentle than this soft loving arms, is the wave of sleepiness that embraces me.

Before I can doze off a burst of energy floods into me, revitalising my battered body and forcing away the comfort of a nice rest.

But it’s not enough, I’m still so tired, I can hardly think.

I just want to sleep, maybe all I’ve ever wanted was to sleep, when was the last time I was actually happy being active?

Another surge of energy rushes into my body but all it does is push away the allure of sleep temporarily.

Except, the moment it disappears it’s replaced by another, then another and another.

Bit by bit I’m waking up and casting aside the comforting mesh of drowsiness and acceptance.

But then reality shifts, I’m no longer bleeding out on a wooden floor, nor am I moments away from slipping into an unending sleep.

Now I’m sitting on a hard oak wood chair, staring with dread at my desk which has my pitiful results on it.

I’ve failed completely and utterly, i’m never going to be a fire mage or a druid.

So there goes my chances of living out a decently stable life with a peaceful and protected job.

The one thing I haven’t failed in… is being a water mage, I’m not a soldier and don’t want to become a hydromancer but I don’t see any other option.

Why had I taken things so lax, I should have focused more on literally anything, maybe then my fate wouldn’t be so utterly sealed like this.

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I mean at least I’m not an air mage, if I was I doubt I would ever live long enough to be considered an Aerialist.

Air mages were already rare, now they’re practically extinct.

When considering that, I suppose I’m lucky that I’m a water mage, or at least that I’m going to be a water mage.

Maybe I can even land one of those cushy jobs touring the Empire and relieving areas suffering from droughts?

Oh who am I kidding, those jobs are for those with connections and noble blood, my only job is going to be creating water for thirsty soldiers.

A rather important and kind role yes but also a dangerous one, I’ve last track of how many hydromancers this war killed.

This cold empty feeling sitting in my stomach is beyond uncomfortable but what makes it worse is that I could have avoided this whole mess.

I should have planned more, been more cunning, more aware.

That way even if I still failed everything else and got given this horrific results paper, I would be prepared.

I guess I better get up and go pack my stuff, soldiers will be here for me soon, just like how they arrived for all the others before me.

But as I stand to leave I once again fall through a hole in reality.

Sitting atop a large rock I feel it when Phaeraxion dies, it’s a horrible feeling, as though someone has torn a clump of my hair out.

I can only imagine how Phaeraxion feels, that poor creature, my poor summon.

It passes quickly at least and I know from my fellow summoner Zaynah that they just drift in the void for a while before getting resummoned, so it shouldn’t have hurt Phaeraxion that much.

At least I hope it didn’t, if it did I’m going to have some serious problems sending Phaeraxion into combat again and again in the future, which will lead to me having problems keeping my head.

Supposedly we were vital but then why do we keep getting treated as though we’re expendable?

I guess that the nobility and officers just view us summoners as tools rather than actual people, they kind of do that for everyone actually.

I wonder what happened? Zaynahs summon Malgazar died just a little while ago as well, they must have been quite outclassed.

Still they tried their hardest and even though I know it’s wrong, I still have a huge smile on my face, I’m not happy about the death, I’m happy with how hard they tried.

Mostly with how hard Phaeraxion tried, I mean for a newborn summon the feats that its accomplished are quite insane.

I just wish it could talk back to me, I’m not used to being relied on and I don’t want to let it go to my head.

I also don’t just want to think of them as an it.

I want to know Phaeraxion, talk to Phaeraxion about lifes’ questions, I want Phaeraxion to not have to slaughter a dozen people minimum every time I summon them.

The bond prevents me from summoning them for non crucial events but I’m so tempted to just ignore that.

I mean Phaeraxion has to have at least one memory that isn’t of bloodshed and violence, or of course from me.

It’s strange, I still remember the stuff that I’ve lost but it’s so foggy, like it's memories of a dream instead of an actual event.

Most of the memories affected are just miscellaneous general information, so it’s not that bad, just makes it a bit awkward since I get common knowledge more easily mixed up now.

Wait, who am I?

What am I?

This doesn't make any sense, I never sat on any rocks, did I?

How can I sit down on a rock that small?

Why am I thinking of myself like I’m not me?

The merging, what’s happened to the merging?

So many questions and no answers at all, I can’t even feel the link, all I can feel is the caring touch of the angry sea.

I’m starting to sink beneath it, I must have died during the process but what about my creator?

Whats happened to Coralet?