It's funny how lonely it is in the dark some times. Even when there are hundreds of people sleeping nearby the darkness makes them seem more distant. The night is a lonely time. Gwythalifan used to say things were more magickal at night. Now he is gone, and I think I can feel the magick he talked about.

It's in everything arround us; the tree, the house and the river. Even the soil holds magick at night. At dawn it sheds away leaving a dewy residue on the plants. I tried for a long time to lose myself in the darkness. To Forget Gwythslifan. He died, there was nothing I could do to slow the poison that spread through him from the monsters sting.

I feld my home, to forget him. Scattered myself out to the sea, and still his memory returned in the moon lit waters. So I eascaped into the land.

The dry land, barren of the trees he so loved. In the hopes of escaping his memory, but the magick, the magic in the darkness, the magick of all living things still reminds me of him.

Perhaps my time of mourning has pasted. All my efforts to forget him only lead me further from my ancestral home. Every human I see reminds me of how short his life was. Maybe if I help others, in fighting the monsters that killed my Gwythslifan, I may honor his memory, or die hopeing only to forget my pain and be reunited with him.

If the Gods are kind I should die, But the gods of men are cruel and torment me with his memory and with life.



Reflecting On Darkness, - LLarafytha Sylvanroot, Wandering Seer.



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