This was not the first time he'd gone to the Islands. He'd visited the pile of ash that had once been his childhood home before, searched for anything that remains, and left no better off than he'd come.

This time, when he returned to visit, he was searching for nothing. He found the ash of his home had already blown away, but the hole was left behind, the marks on the ground where foundation had once been set, and the stubs of beams that had once held support. Not much left but memories, and even those seemed a little dusty and distant.

He realized, as he bent down and looked at the remains of what he'd once cherished, that he couldn't feel that crippling loneliness gripping at his heart anymore. He wasn't lost in thought, focused on everything that had past. He wasn't lost at all.

And wasn't that nice.

The hole in the ground seemed to fill with memory. Whispers, clearly coming from the Insanity that still lingered in the air and on his skin and in his bones, trying to remind him of years gone by. Trying to make him wallow in regret again.

All he felt was tired.

Eventually, he stood up from his crouch, and walked through the tattered illusion of his old home. His family, all towering above him, were passed easily through. He made it to the far corner, and bent down again. There was a little glint in the ground; the whispers became louder, trying to convince him to ignore it.

He didn't.

When he cleaned it up and held it to the sky, he saw it was nothing but a bit of diamond, a tiny thing that should never have been visible to him from where he stood. He brought it up close to inspect it, and then pocket it.

That would be the last thing he took back with him, once he left the Islands for good. The memories, the regret, the anger, the inadequacy - that could all remain.

He moved on.