I crawl away on one arm.

The Dragon's roar echoes off the cavern walls. The terrible noise makes me tremble.

"I will not be contained!"

The sound fills me with dread.

I am panting and sweating as the hairs on my arm stick up like swords.

I lurch forwards, desperate, and slip. I use my damaged arm to bear my weight. I cry out as it refuses to bear my weight.

I eat dirt, as a tear falls on the cold stone. The sharp rocky surface of the cavern floor deepens the already savage wounds.

I get up and I crawl again for what seems like a marathon.

I have no bearings, but to escape the horrible presence of the Undead Lich. The Dragon of False Rebirth is obsessed with eating me.

I worm my way along until my lungs and muscles burn from the exertion.

I stop.

I lie on my uninjured side against a sharp rock, where I hope I am far enough away from the Dragon. In case, it breaks free.

I look at my injuries. The sprained ankle, now the least of them.

The red lines of scarring grab my eye.

The rotting on my arm is disgusting to look at, with the scarring and the layers of flaps forming like crimson sludge as the skin had been decayed.

I feel the urge to vomit rising from the pit of my stomach. I gag and dry heave.

I retch a few times before I calm down.

The risk of sickness is high.

Yes, there is a high chance of infection. There is not much we can do about it right now.

Is my fate not just for having failed Bara?

I would not speak too hastily of justice.

I left her there to die. There is no way she could have lived on that island for three weeks is there?

I know, I think she is dead.

I failed her.

We failed her.

I'm the one who ran.

That does not make your death just! One person's death can never equal another. Death has no such logic. Heat is energy and life is death. You cannot make the two separate in a mortal being.

I talk of a friend and you speak in riddles!

If you failed that means that the world failed before you. You merely inherited its flaws.

What difference does that make! I failed.

That means it is not your fault. You did not choose to feel pain or be born. Nor did you choose your body's response to finding relief.

I can never forgive myself for not helping her. She needed me.

I know you may have failed but that is okay.

Fuck off.

It is already determined. But only you can try to forgive yourself. Only you can be sensitive to your suffering down here in the dark, all alone. She is already dead and I can only feel what you do. You and you only can act. Right here right now. You can imagine the strength, wisdom and warmth you need to keep on surviving.

I say nothing. I sit in agony. My frail body is dying and my mind is breaking under the stress of the past few weeks.

I don't know how.

I admit. I know he is making sense. I feel it.

You already know how to breathe and calm yourself.

I breathe.

Do this.

It is familiar. It is safe, constant and true.

I let my stomach rise for three seconds, then fall for three seconds. I let it rise for four seconds then fall for four seconds. I breathe in for five seconds then breathe out for five seconds. I maintain the rhythm of breathing in for five and letting my stomach rise and breathing out for five, letting my stomach fall.

I'm a failure.

And back to the breath.

I return to the breath. I drift again and pull my attention back. Like grist to the mill, I practice. Each breath is to my advantage. Every breath is a moment of peace.

If power is joy then peace is the way. Breath that connects all living, mortal beings.

I would not slay a dragon through meditation, but it was a foundation for rest, understanding and joy.

Wasn't it?

It can be. For some.

It was the one legacy left by that old bugger, our so-called guardian, that was not on how to kill.

It is useful for a warrior to be less bothered by suffering.

He answers, in a way that doesn't agree but doesn't disagree.

"Right."

Now, it is easy to go through life, like yours and learn ways of being self-critical. It is unlikely that insects worry about themselves in the ways sentient, emotional beings do. Many people think self-criticism can be useful but it depends on how you do it.

Becoming angry and beating yourself up is rarely useful. Let's imagine we can take away this self-criticism. What would be your greatest fear?

I wouldn't try hard enough, meaning that I would not reach my full potential. I would fail to help those around me and be immoral. Evil.

Self-criticism then is important to you. You should keep doing it, you have reasons to do it.

Yes.

Let's look at your self-criticism.

Bring to mind something you are critical about. Let us get a feel for it.

If I was a better Mage, if I was more successful if I had worked harder maybe I could have saved Bara. Maybe I would still be at the academy, a student with a bright future ahead of him. I would be with friends united by a shared purpose. I wouldn't be a failure, who is sitting in the dark all alone and dying slowly.

Perhaps it would be better if I was dead?

He is silent for a moment then,

August, life is hard. Sometimes we can be carrying a weight too great to handle. That does not make you weak. No one expects you to lift a castle with a finger. It is alright to feel as you do. I'm glad you feel able to talk about it.

"Right." I answer embarrassed by my confession.

I cannot take your pain away, but I can help you cultivate the confidence to live. You can learn to be less bothered by your suffering. Sensitive to it. Actively paying attention to it instead of passively feeling it and thus becoming overwhelmed by passions. Passions like despair and guilt.

We want a feel for self-criticism, you do not need to go so far as to upset yourself.

"Alright."

I don't think I am strong enough.

Imagine if you could see this self-critical part outside of you. Take it out of your head and look at it. What would it look like?

I try to imagine the self-critical self, I pull it out from the ear and like a long, thick tendril it extends out and I see it. Glaring back.

"Hate you." it says (or is it I think?).

It's a fuzzy blackness with jagged edges and big blacker eyes. Or are they white?

It doesn't look too pleasant, does it?

No, it doesn't.

As you look at it. Tune in, to what it is saying to you.

"Scum, go die. Everyone would be happier with you dead." it says.

What do you think it is feeling about you, what are the emotions it is directing at you?

I look at it, and I think about what it is saying. I feel what is it feeling.

Hatred, contempt and maybe disgust?

Now you have seen what it looks like, noted what it said and what it feels about you? How does this leave you feeling?

Cold? I guess. It doesn't feel right. For the first time, it doesn't seem right as I thought it was.

Does your self-critic have your best interests at heart? Does it take joy in your success? Does it encourage you in your struggle?

No, it doesn't.

It is not loving or kind or supportive. It is telling you that you aren't good enough, that you aren't trying hard enough and it is insulting you in unpleasant ways. It is a way of talking that you don't usually say to a friend or stranger.

That is true.

The feelings of the critic aren't very caring.

No, they are hostile.

So you may think the critic is trying to be helpful but it is instead making you feel down. Look again at what it looks like, and what it thinks and feels about you. No wonder you feel a bit suppressed by it.

Yeah.

Your goals to be moral, work hard and so on, these are excellent goals. But maybe the critic isn't the way to try and achieve them?

What other way is there?

Well yes, the critic is useful at punishing you at putting you down. Another way...

"I smell you, Demon!" roars the Dragon.

The great and terrible voice rips the peace from my mind.

"Hide like the insect you are, I will break free and devour."

We should go.

Yes, we must.

I crawl again further into the cavern.

"I will rip you apart and feast on your guts!"

The Dragon's raging roars stalk my every move.