The spiders come easier now, I can kill many now before their poison drains me to where I must drink potions. I found an orange crystal, the dim glow filling the corners and recesses of the lair with an almost bronze tinted hue. Did she I wonder? The bronzed mimicry of myself. The defiled beauty - broken. Did these same passageways shimmer with that light as she fed on my sister with sweet words and a kiss? I traded the orange for a scroll and tucked it with the rest in my bank. Ancient knowledge that I shall likely never wield. My collection of blessings like the thin strands of an impossible dream. They sit in my bank, collecting dust, I don’t know why.

I found another treasure in the dark of a different haunt, acceptance nestled amongst the queens. Sigarni named her Treasure once, so long ago now that the memory holds nothing but sweetness. Memories of a time free from all that came after, when I’d yet to learn of the lessons life brings. It was good to be in her presence once more, to not have to be on guard, or worried that if I show my true self the person will leave. They always leave, but not her.

I think I envy most those who do not dwell, those who forge on in life, brushing away the past like leaves fallen from autumn trees. I do not. I dwell in things - letting them whirl around and through me over and over again. Each passings stokes the fires for good or ill. There is madness in it, I know. But it feels. So. Damn. Good. It is a balm I use to comfort myself when the loneliness sets in, a trick I use to warm myself against the ice, a shield.