Everything here is right. As it should be. I sit in my rooms in the Silverspire, perched in the window, overlooking the domain of the Weir. I am ruler of all I survey.

It is easy, so easy, to forget that this is only half of Weirmonken. That the place most people think of Weirmonken now is just a brighter version of the truth. Here, the nightmare ( Read more... )

There are times when sacrifices must be made, when paths must be chosen and remained on. The time for laughter has passed. Perhaps it will return, one day. I will be glad, if it does. For now, however, Weirmonken needs more.

The path spread out before me is one forged in blood and shadows. I have hung on the tree of fate, upsidedown, and fed it ( Read more... )

The trees have begun to shrug on their brilliant colors, shedding here and there. I remember when I was younger, when Niklas and I would play within the fallen leaves, and later Alander. I remember trying to teach Adelgar how to do so, and the grunt I received. I recognize it now for fondness. I miss him, oftentimes, my uncle in all but blood. ( Read more... )

There is a crisp bite to the air, and the scent on the winds have changed. Autumn comes, and with it the brilliant colors of foliage. It is a time for change, and already we have had much of it ( Read more... )

The first snowfall of winter in Weirmonken fell a few days ago. There is a pure beauty in it, the light of the moon dancing on the white landscape. Maddock was here for it, and I am glad that he was. He has a natural talent for snowball fights... I should see, next time, how he does with sledding. I find myself more, well...myself, lately. And I ( Read more... )

( But I'm always dreaming, even when I'm awake; it is never finished. )

And so the waiting, the preparing, begins. Hopefully I can meet with Prince Benedict and see how, and if, I and the warpack are needed ( Read more... )

Wow, it's been a while since I've written in this thing ( Read more... )

Let only sorrow speak tonight.
Let sorrow name the moons.
Let the pale blue light be Loss
And the white one Memory.
Let clouds obscure the brightness
Of the high, holy stars,
And shroud the watering place
Where he was wont to slake his thirst.

Bittersweet. It is not the homecoming I expected. Perhaps I should have delved deeper into my dreams, and I ( Read more... )

Sometimes, I don't know what to write. But I need to. It's just ...there are so many things always running through my head going faster than a hummingbird's wings and when I try to grasp them it's like trying to catch the air in my hands. It always slips away ( Read more... )