Small pages, 32s, 2 UM
She despaired.
She wept in the corner as we spoke, the Young Blade having walked off in disgust at me; the Machinist, afar, intentionally avoiding my words; my reflection, mocking us as she showed "friendship;" the Magiteknologist and Chirurgeon, trying to force my reflection to show her hand.
And in the corner, she wept, despairing that she caused great trouble, that she had made any of hate her, that she had done some great wrong both by seeking justice for me and by, incidentally, bringing my dark reflection back to the Tower.
We were able to pull her back from it, with calm words of love and trust and, perhaps, the connection of the ring she and I both wear. But I remained trembling, nonetheless. She is so loved. She told me she has so much to live for, that while she cared naught for her life before, she sees meaning and purpose in it now. That she could be drawn into a darkness that might have consumed her once again...
The thought is a heavy weight to bear.
, Y.
The edge of the page is oddly frayed and bleached, as if it were exposed to some sort of dissolving magick.