What, a world within a world? Like one of those nested dolls? His brows furrow. Perhaps. But it's as Estinien said: his own was never a shard of anything. They're individual worlds, collided and merged into one.

He needs someone else to talk to about this. Who is the problem. Maybe it's worth speaking not to another Summoned, but to someone at the academy in the city. A native of this world, familiar with its history.

The edge of Estinien's domain draws near. He sighs, and it isn't really directed at the elf at all. It's just—every time he learns something new, it spawns a thousand more concerns.

"Thank you for the sheep, I suppose. And the headache."