Narangerel Mol, Balmung, Scarf of Wondrous Wit.

The wind tore at her face, carrying thoughts away with the sand. Her mind was empty, reeling and primal. Beside her lay Bokebaatu's corpse. She couldn't bare to look at her lover, his eyes glazed over, his chest in shambles. Scattered around them were the corpses of bandits, and molten slag that had been weapons. They'd killed him first, thinking he was the larger threat. Yet, even untrained mages can be powerful, when they don't care about the cost. She let out an anguished, furious scream as her mind snapped. It was easy to embrace madness. Without her humanity, she was a rabid beast set only on revenge. Fire blossomed out from her entire being. She became the flames. It consumed her clothing and hair. It baked the carcasses. Flesh charred and cracked, fuel for the flame. With her enemies smoldering her mind set on the nearby outpost; the only civilization -it- could sense. It lifted its feet, molten sand clinging like wet mud as it trudged north.

She'd sent a distress call to her company, before Bokebaatu died and her mind collapsed. They mobilized together in front of the house, and rode the aether to the Hidden Springs. The village lay in ruins - a road of burning destruction and molten sand a centimeter deep wound from one gate to the other, strewn with smoldering corpses. The party followed the trail over the eastern dunes, and there they found It: a humanoid core, swathed in flame, surrounded by discarded flesh. It was the dark scaled tail that showed them the truth. This had been a person, once. Half of its lower legs had melted away, yet it continued its pursuit of a group of terrified, screaming Miqo'te children. It raised its arm and flames erupted at the slowest child, trailing behind the rest. The toddler's screams mingled with the creature's shriek, inhuman and terrifying. The group moved at once to defend, drawing its attention. Hearing their approach, it turned with a savage roar and a name - Mist.

The party stared in horror, as realization set in. The creature shambling towards them, trailing burnt flesh and molten sand, was Naran. It reached towards them with another roar, with fire erupting from its hands. The spout was choked off as the creature was tackled. Chaos unfurled. Mages pulled waves of sand onto the tumbling pair in an attempt to smother further flames. Its eyes succumbed to the heat and melted from their sockets. Bladed knuckles struck its spine, then sank into what was left of its body. An aldgoat born of magick and sand crashed into the creature, and it finally - blessedly - crumbled into smoldering pieces.

They woke with a start - safe and whole and bleary with sleep. The muffins Naran offered before they'd dozed off sit heavy in their bellies as their memories filter in. The dream was as real as the basement they sat in. She offered an unread note by way of explanation, unaware of the warning, being illiterate.