13th Sun of Rah, Year XX
I wonder why so many dreams of mine are set in winter? It seems to always be following me like a shadow, always so unreal, always so cruel, and yet, the chill never touches my skin.
This time, I was captive to an ornate mirror. Frost had half spread across the surface, and an odd detached feeling held my heart.
My hair, a pale gold, was a ghostly silver, cascading down my back. My eyes were silver once again―I was different, and yet I have never felt more like myself. It was my reflection… and yet, it was not.
Whispers of sorrow drifted from behind, laced with muffled sobs. Unseen women removed the elaborate jewels from me, one by one. At last, they removed the crown.
The spreading frost blurred the entire mirror until only the piercing silver eyes remained. Then, the me inside the dream, rose and stepped away.
