Sleep slips from you more each night, like the final grains of sand in an hourglass, each moment heavier than the last. Your child's cry, once a gentle plea, now rises like a storm at sea, relentless, unyielding, threatening to pull you under. You feel alone, adrift in an ocean of doubt, where the shore is always just out of reach. You fear that you are both 'too much' and 'too little' - a tempest too wild to calm, yet a whisper too faint to be heard.

The world urges you to find strength, to find light in the darkest hours. But deep down, you know the truth - your spirit wavers like a candle in the wind, and the weight you bear grows colder, heavier with every breath. And as the night stretches on, you begin to wonder if the shadows have grown thicker, if there are eyes within them that see what you cannot.

Does this sound like you? Have these thoughts ever been your own?

I am calling to you. Come to me, child.

I have seen you. I see you still. Come, drink deeply of my benevolent care and be blessed. There is hope to be had, a way out of the labyrinth of despair, if you only call upon my name. I know your struggles. Motherhood is so demanding. Come, let me take your burden. Does it not sit so heavy upon your breast? Come, fall into my embrace where you will find rest, where your child's cries will fade into a silence as soft as the fall of snow.

If you only whisper my name, you will find a hand waiting to pull you from the depths.

Come, and bring your child.


- II

[X] Overseer Grandue Xeh'ria, Keeper of the Iron Crown

[A small octagon encircles a raised "II" here, inscribed in thick, amethyst ink]


Penned by my hand on the 5th of Chronos, in the year 954 AF.