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A throne. Fifen...no, Finn, had picked the throne, had chosen pride over creation when destruction was no longer an option. The throne itself, when it had appeared, he had longed to sit on.

But a throne was only meant for kings, and that throne more specifically, for the great king.

The voice spoke to him then, told him of a journey he needed to take, one that the great king had taken before. If he could complete this journey, would that make him worthy of sitting on a throne?

There was really only one way for him to find out.

In front of the dilapidated ruins of an old house he stood, eyes moving over each of the four beasts tethered before him. The memories he had regained told him almost nothing of his past, and certainly not enough for him to know what to do now.

Decisions, decisions.

A camel should be good, right? After all, they were what were used to cross deserts! That must have meant that they were tough, durable, sure footed, and resilient creatures.

He untied the camel, and hauled himself up into the saddle like he knew exactly what he was doing, much to his own surprise, and within moments he was setting off across the countryside.

Finn thought that things were going fairly well. His camel was plodding along nicely, and he was even beginning to contemplate giving it a name. It was a nice, quiet beast, one that seemed to be moving along at fairly good pace.

Though apparently not as good of a pace as Finn believed.