Stop. Terran’s voice seemed to echo in his mind. Denigrating yourself and hating yourself more than anyone else ever could will get you nowhere. I saw it with my brother, and he went down an evil path because of it. When correcting a mistake, you need to acknowledge what you did wrong in a rational way where you can actually fix the mistake.

Eory’s hand tightened around the clump of dirt as he let himself remember. He couldn’t swallow, the lump in his throat prevented it. He couldn’t sit up–his legs were too heavy with the burden of his sins. 

No matter the gravity of your mistake–even if it warrants self hatred–you can’t get anything done if you’re wallowing in a pool of self-hatred. It immobilizes you–drags you to your knees. That’s why you need to take the emotion out of it. Just say bluntly what you did wrong, and what you can do in the future to fix it. 

For a moment, Eory couldn’t let himself think rationally about it. For a moment, he needed to let himself get lost in the fury of his own self-loathing, because he knew someone needed to punish him for letting Terran die. And that person was himself. In his mind, he called himself every bad name in the book, because that was the most fitting punishment he could think of. 

It was only when he weathered that storm of unbridled, irrational self-hatred that he could see the clear skies of rationality. 

The fitting punishment isn’t to sit here and do nothing. The only fitting punishment is to live with my mistake, and learn how to correct it in the future so it never happens again. 

His legs felt less heavy, and he managed to sit back on his haunches. He cried, and let himself feel the emotions with no thoughts other than how much he missed his friend. 

I will never feel the comfort of his presence again. I will never have anyone in my life like that again–never have someone who is willing to lay down his life for me. I know what the problem was. The problem was that my own lack of confidence got Terran killed. Some of that is my fault, and some of it was the way I was raised. I don’t know how to address the problem. Help me, Terran. Goddesses, please help me. 

Eory clasped his shaky hands together, praying for a sign in the blackness that could possibly help him be more confident. 

As if the goddesses had heard him, he thought he saw something shine brightly in the blackness of his blind eyes. Eory chased the blinding light. At first, it was a shapeless, shining blob of light, but as Eory came closer and closer to it, it began to take shape. 

It was a fairy, and by the spiral-tipped nose, it was an Arrozan fairy. 

“Who are you?” Eory called out. 

Eory pushed himself to run faster, and eventually the features of the Arrozan Fairy came more into focus. 

The creature’s skin was the absence of light. It was charcoal, and its eyes were redder than fire. Eory stopped running upon seeing the creature. 

“You ask who I am? I am your spirit. I am Uzafhig.” the creature responded. 

Eory fell to his knees. “Can you help me? 

“I can. You are missing the Arrozan Spirit. No wonder you let your good friend die. Come to me…” Uzafhig held out a hand, and Eory approached. 

Abruptly, Eory felt something wet sweep across his cheek. Uzafhig disappeared. Eory was shrouded in darkness again. He took a deep breath, using his mind's eye to reach down within himself and see how well his body was regenerating his magic. He checked on on his stomach and was surprised to see that it was already half filled with black ooze. Eory funneled what was there to his eyes, ears, and throat. He could see now, and what he saw made him gasp and take several steps back in shock and terror.         

It was his dog, Gershom. It was whistling sadly, its eyes furrowed. Eory thought about running away--thought his dog would eat him alive--but when the dog just sat there, panting sadly, Eory knew it meant him no harm. He approached cautiously, boots crunching through leaves as he did so. 

The mountainous, black dog growled, baring its teeth. Eory stopped in his tracks. Gerhsom arced his back, its low growl becoming louder and louder. Eory bowed his head. This is all my magic can do? Create monsters? He kept his head and eyes down, stomping through the leaves.

Gershom snorted heat out his nostrils. Eory felt it brush his face. He reached out a steady hand, inhaling a deep breath. Do not hesitate. Don’t let yourself shake. Your mind will respond to your body. Terran had told him once while teaching him the sword. 

He found courage to touch his dog’s nose, and he opened his eyes. Eory looked directly into his dog’s white, pupil-less, glowing eyes, and wondered if anything inside of the dog was still Gershom, or if all of him had been corrupted by Eory’s magic. 

He saw himself in Gershom’s eyes. He smiled. “Is there anything of you left that still belongs to you? Or are you made up of my foul magic? I don’t know if there’s anything left that belongs to me, either… or if I am just made up of my parent’s hideous magic, too.” 

Gershom whimpered, and Eory was surprised when the dog licked his cheek affectionately. He breathed out a sigh, tears brimming at the corner of his eyes. “I knew it. There must be a little bit of you left… I don’t know how much, though.” 

Gershom lowered himself to his belly. 

Eory recognized the ten-foot-tall dog wanted him to climb aboard. Eory could hear his friends calling his name. 

He glanced behind him, and then heard something rustling through the brush in front of him. He snapped his head back around to look in front of him. He saw something yellow disappear behind a thicket. 

Sweat pooled on his forehead. He swallowed, and then climbed aboard Gershom.