A thousand different memories filled his mind, the memories that haunted his dreams. Jon saw all the things he'd wished upon the world, the fates of his family and friends, the pain and misery and sadness and so very few moments of reprieve and happiness. His hopes and dreams had become twisted, twisted by the damned stone...
Something pulsed next to his heart, pulsing in time with the silence between his heartbeats, and Jon focused on it, feeling the pulse draw him back to reality. He felt his body moving, pulsing, expanding, contracting, flowing, sickening. Jon breathed deeply; sharp, shuddering, desperate gasps for air.
His immortal body burned, and with every pulse of the stone in his chest, it subsided just a little bit. The moment he could speak, he whispered, "I wish only to know where this pain came from." Even on the best of days his voice was weak from disuse. He preferred silence to speech. New information entered his mind, a sensation he never thought he'd get used to. An assassination attempt. Someone had tried to kill him with another magical artifact. But who? The wish hadn't told him that, and he knew it wouldn't.
There were many, many people in this world and beyond who could want him dead. No one had been able to cause him that much pain, to put the fear in him that he may actually die. The relief.
For the first time in many years, Jon smiled. He had a purpose. He would find his would-be killer.
