Hand over dry green hand he crawled towards his destination, tiny rocks and
black dirt were now caked over his tunic. He had come a long way considering
his condition and though his mind had managed to shut out the reality that his
body was indeed frail and failing, the thought was becoming unbearable and
permeating every nerve in his body. He began to think.

"Mind - how you fail me once again. No matter, it will end soon enough."

He prided himself, a feeling of accomplishment providing recess from the dark
thoughts filtering through him. He could keep his calm even in this dire
moment. This changed when he brought himself over another rise, it was too
much. The Teacher reminding him of his pain, he collapsed.

"I could stop… rest… pray… No. I must complete this journey."

This was not a journey. "Journey" was just a euphemism to keep the pain back,
and the memory from flooding over. This was an exile. He knew this, as he
rolled himself onto his back, inhaling, letting the cool, moist air stream down
his throat. He looked down at the red, muddy patch on his right breast, allowing
a labored, painful sigh to escape his mouth. Turning himself back over, he began
to crawl once more.

"I will not last long."

He smiled as yellow and red irony filled his mouth. He turned his head and
coughed out life fluid, in the miasma he found acceptance. Yes, he would die
soon, and leave behind this coil. Rivers of blue were now pocked and exploding
across his light green skin, his hands pale and trembling. He struggled
forward, through Solitude.

"Mark of Mother, Hah!"

His protectors had been wrong. The ancient tree had not set its mark on him. No
this was a blemish. His skin, as crystalline and delicate as it was had been but
a warning. Its warning was simple: EMOTION. It had been correct, emotion,
despite the body's will against it had corrupted it. Emotion had been the death
of it.

"I am a slave no longer. Thank you."

Pausing, he pulled the dagger out of his chest, sending its colored blade
clattering to the rocks below. His bondage began to leave him, its air rushing
out of his wound. Red flowed freely now, he looked down at the cleft over his
lung. He had done it. He had murdered the body. He had broken his chains. He
pulled himself upright and limped forward.

"Salvation…"

Logic enslaved him one last time: Emotion is a flaw. I loved, I raged, I
saddened. Love, Rage, and Sadness were all emotion. He was flawed. He quickly
dismissed it, it was of no matter, there was a solution to every flaw. That was
one of his race's teachings, the teachings he was now forsaking. He staggered
forward into the cave.

"Flames… fate"

He saw the flames, his freedom. He cast himself towards Fate, his final throws
of life leaving his Lucidian body. Left for vestigial, it crumpled to the
ground, shattering. He emerged, new in body, ears pointed and hair black, but
skin still green, mind surging. He rejoiced.

"Logic was my prison, I have escaped!"