It seemed like he'd been walking for days. Maybe he would die trying to find people or at least somewhere he could eat and sleep. But it had been dying back there in that desolate hell among the embers, or dying in search for help. If he had to beg for food and water, he would. Normally, he was a strong and independent person that would never beg or ask for help if he could avoid it, but when you were pushed, none of that mattered. His instincts told him to survive. That was the only thing driving him forward.
His legs ached, his clothes torn and his hands burnt. All in all, he looked like something hell had chewed up and spat back out. Just as his legs gave up and he fell to his knees, Aerion looked up through strands of messy black hair and saw something ahead of him that gave him a spark of hope and energy. It wasn't much, but it was all he had. "This... This better not be an illusion." He muttered to himself and got up, stumbling towards a house that sat on a hill, overlooking the sea.
If they wouldn't help him, he had nowhere else to go.