Epilogue

It was the rain that woke Dreygo up. The gentle drops of the rain like small drums on his small hut roof had struck him with nostalgia. His head rang hard as if he had been asleep for years. His knees teetered as he tried to stand from the bed and found himself leaning against the wooden wall. His energy was drained maybe from the long slumber, he thought.

He tried to think of something, but he knew that the world he was in was not a memory, nor the past, it was a new world. The feeling of nostalgia had suddenly visited him, escorted with pain, and depression. The reason was vague for the emotion he had experienced. He feared ever digging further into the root of what rumbled inside his stomach, deep in his thoughts something had lingered. He knew only sadness was waiting for him if he ever fathomed the reason.

He took gentle strides outside the bedroom, his sole felt cold against the wooden floor. The woodwork was great, greater than he could ever build. The shack was small, and the