Where have you gone? To an unknown fate. I know you’re somewhere there, on the fringe, at the ends of the world we knew, some barren gale-blown hellhole scant of fire. Is there mortal peril? It is said that scorpions abound in undiscovered lands, that infinite serpents slither beneath the deadly gaze of basilisks, that painted cannibals and jackal-headed men with horns and tails do roam and yet, you left, you chose to go, you left me here. There be dragons there, and torment here, where I remain without you. Terra incognita or the known: which one should I prefer?