[He lowers his sword and holds it in his own one-handed grip, weighing it. The grip feels right. The sword feels wrong, though. The new knowledge wars with what he was taught, which isn't helping anything and only serves to make him more confused.

He touches his temple.]

I thought it might work for you, but me?

[Why was Alisha so important? Why would he leave the place of his birth to chase someone he didn't know? He has so many questions and no answers. He looks at the crest on the back of the beaded white glove on his hand, and he wonders just what kind of trouble his past self got into.]

... I'm not some kind of fantasy hero who goes out and fights dragons. The scariest thing I've ever faced down was a yellow light.

[A breath. He's freaking out a little, and he knows it, so he tries to shove it down.]

Do you actually remember anything? Should we-- should we keep going?