Disappearance of a King

Avos sits cross-legged in the shadows of his home. His eyes fixated on a bright lamp, and the surrounding red banners. He was thin, and seemingly non-responsive. An onlooker would think he had gone mad.

In reality, he had never been in more control than he was now. Black bruises had formed around his mist-less eyes. His look was glazed over. His eyes twitched, and a sharp pillar of rock rose somewhere in the Plains of Ares. The sand spoke, it demanded, and he refused.

Avos fought a war within his mind. Many would think Avos was in complete control of the sand. He'd argue it was in control of him. A man steps into the cantina in Karoo and he hears it. He feels it.

He can see the man's shape from the various sand particles attached to the man's skin.

A storm is brewing around Non-Non's old shack, he can sense the sand's loneliness with the absence of Non-Non.

The sand feels, it knows all, it controls. It acts through Avos. In the dark shadows of the Darudian fortress, something snaps. An important structural base in Avos' mind gives way. Avos slowly begins to stand, the world around him slowing as he does. Soft whispers speak to him, and scolding demands are yelled at him, warnings are given, but are not heeded.

Avos stands mentally exhausted, his arms swaying. He was in control.

Somewhere, out in the Plains of Ares, something is awoken.