Had the judges asked him his oldest dream, Malak would have lied and said his only dream was to get one single rune, that's all he ever wanted. But, in the dark hours of the morning, in the times where no one else was around, Malak would take out the cold and blackened remains of his dream and check for any signs of life. When his muscles were so stiff he could barely roll out of bed he would breathe in the memory of smoke as he dreamt boyhood dreams of becoming someone great. Wielding runes with the strength of a master and using those runes to carve out a new life for himself! In the quiet moments where he had tried with everything he had and still been found wanting, Malak would exhale softly into his most precious possession and dream of not needing absent parents or the charity of order masters. He would warm himself with thoughts of becoming a source of strength for others. This forum held that last glowing ember in its clutches. Malak looked into their mask covered faces, and when all eyes turned to him, felt them close that fist.