Pursuit of the Sun 1.2

Ottar was deep in thought again. And there was a lot to think about... The idea of selling the item on the black market sounded much better, but that would have to wait until tomorrow... Today, he could only go to the Castle under the pretext of visiting the constable and, at the same time, try to find the right Knight. He could also ask the Master if he happened to have any human blood stored in the secret alchemical cellars... but that was highly unlikely. The Master might have already guessed everything from the incident with the heart, or he might not. The limits of his friendliness didn't seem endless. 

– Tell me about this Knight, Master, – Ottar asked. – Is he a follower of the Void, or just a collector?

A few days ago, the Blooddrinker could still satisfy his thirst relatively easily, but now a streak of bad luck had begun... But at least he had money. It seemed that everything couldn't happen at once. Who would doubt that.

-- Yes, he's a Voidwalker, like most people in our country. He's an older man, blond and graying, so he's not too hard to recognize. And I won't tell you anything else – if the patient says too much about himself, it's my job not to spread it around. Here's your fifth lesson – if you know something, it's better not to show it, you'll live longer.

Added 16 minutes later

Suddenly, an old medal appeared before his eyes. A spark of something familiar, something close, pierced the ghostly aura. He realized that he had lingered too long, that he had been playing the silent messenger of the Void for too long. It was time to put an end to this.

The burden of will is heavy, for it obliges one to exist, but the burden of memory is even heavier, for it confines existence, binds it, prevents it from disappearing or freely transforming in the whirlwinds of the Void, where images and concepts are free and mean nothing. Something in the Void has taken on this heavy burden, bound itself with the chains of the past, and since only this particle of Hargon now possesses will, the indifferent Void obeys it without question. 
Having materialized, it must make a choice. A heavy, viscous shell has enveloped it, imprisoned it, cut it off from the extra-spatial diversity of the eternally possible and never actual, and now there are only two paths – back, where the threads of images connected with this charred being lead, and forward, where the unknown awaits, but already has a terrifying – otherwise it could not be in the personal dungeon that the distorted consciousness has created for itself – form and threatens with the necessity of choice and struggle.