Dearest Father,

I’m sorry I have not been to see you for a little while, but I hope you are still having a marvelous time fossicking around, and I’d love to hear about anything you’ve found. Recently took a jaunt in to some ruins Esmond’s had his eye on for some time. Yes we were looking for trouble, but that’s what young people do, isn’t it? I can see you shaking your head at me in my mind. Don’t worry too much. Crawling through possibly haunted ruins seems like a vacation to the rest of my life.

I’ve not been sleeping well lately. For a while really. Since I went looking for…well, best we don’t talk about that.

Combinations of the same nightmares over and over again. Scared the crap out of Esmond a few nights ago. He woke up to me curled in to a shivering ball, and the bed had kinda grown into a thicket of branches and leaves around us. All I remember from that is a need to be sheltered. Is sleep conjuring even a thing? He was pretty amazing and held on to me all night. But the morning was awkward. We’re not, you know, like that. So yeah. A bit awkward. We made perfectly legitimate decision to go looking for trouble!

I keep seeing home falling down around me; I’m walking a pattern. It keeps shifting below me, too many reflections, three, four, five; I have trouble focusing on the path, and all the while, around me, buildings are falling, the water filled with debris, blood, the sounds fighting, screams, death. but I am trapped. I have to keep walking, or I will die. And then I am trapped in a box of nothing. I can’t walk further. A fire begins to burn inside me, tearing through me, trying to find the way out.

Oceans full of tears
shed by the weeping Three, for
souls falling in war.

There are friends, fighting…things, each other, me. A mad morass of colours and images, words, shouts, sounds. I feel like I have turned too many circles and cannot see a straight line, but I’m still fighting. On the edge of control, the very edge. The ground moves in ways it shouldn’t, and the sky peers at me from angles that do not exist. If I could stop, I would throw up. But I can’t stop, everywhere there is something distorting across my vision and I have to fight it. Soon I don’t even know what I’m fighting. Everything is mashed together. All that’s left is sound and light, and neither enters my mind in a way that my brain can cope with.

Scores of suffering
stalwart soldiers stand steadfast
in scarlet soaked soil.

And sometimes there is nothing. A great blankness, that should invite peace, and sleep. It doesn’t. All that courses through that blankness is dread, fear, horror. A scrabbling creature of gleeful nothing rifling through my mind, and I can not escape it. Often I am almost awake. my eyes are open, I can see the pillow I lie on. And the blankness is still inside my head, prying everything open, searching for I known not what. I can not move. I try to call out for sanctuary, I try to scream. If I can get out a strangled whimper, it is the best I can do. And sometimes it is enough to wake me.

Sway Amberite horde.
Your master, the Weirmonken,
passes through your door.

Perhaps everything is finally catching up with me. I do what Hagen has told me to do when I need to calm my mind. I meditate, I train, I have a cup of tea and a scone (sometimes jam). It helps. But I’m so tired. And it’s annoying the five hells out of me!

I will try and get out to see you soon. I’m sure you have plenty of things to show me and be historical at me about (I do miss that….things you never thought you’d ever hear me say)

Loves you