I dream of death. I sleep little and when I do it is fitful and fleeting. Yet
when slumber finds me, I invariably dream of an end. When I was young I dreamt
the dreams of youth; power, wealth, love. Would that I had such desires now. It
is our nature to desire that which we cannot have. Would that I never attained
that which I once desired.

My thoughts are scattered. I need nothing but I want much. I want a feeling
other than ambivalence. I want the intense urgency of my youth. The all
consuming anger. The certainty. The pure arrogance of righteousness. The
quickening of lust. All have fled from my grasp. I am indifferent. I would weep
if I could still cry.

I have reached the pinnacle. I am not mortal. I am not a god. I am trapped in a
limbo I am quickly realizing is cursed. I cannot die.
Let me repeat that: I cannot die.

Do you understand that? Can you understand it? I do not and I cannot. I will
not. My physical form can be struck down. I feel the abstract pain of it. My
spirit persists. When I will it, I regenerate and walk against amongst the
mortals; acting as if it is normal. As if I am normal. Gone is the desperation
and the dependence on the good will of the fates. Gone is the thought that this
fight may be the last. This breath may be the last. Gone is the fear.

I walk the streets of Celest. I speak. I observe. I cannot bring myself to
fight. I cannot bring myself to serve. I cannot bring myself to truly care.
Tragic indifference. I gave so much of myself to this land. My hopes, dreams,
and pain. My sweat and blood. My love. Now, I could watch it burn and feel only
mild curiosity. Perhaps an echo of my former self would greet me with such
destruction. It is tempting to facilitate it simply to see.

I fear nothing. Except that absence. The things I once dreaded I now anticipate.
They may be dreadful. They may be horrific. At least they will be interesting.
Is it like this for the divine? I feel it must not be. I pray it is not. I am an
Avatar of the Even Blade. I feel this is my only link to...I am not sure to
what. Life? No, that is not right. I am inexorably tied to life. There is no
escaping that, except by my own hand.

It is true that I could let my essence escape like so much blood upon the sand.
Once it could no longer sustain this semi divine form, I might seek the final
release. The thought has occurred to me. I dismiss it when it occurs; usually. I
feel it is a great waste; most of the time. But sometimes...

It is the sometimes that haunt me.

My Lady always seems to know when my despair reaches its apex. She is there to
quicken my form with Her passion. In the warmth of Her regard I am reanimated
once more. Until the next time.

I look upon my friends. My fellow Avatars. Do they feel this? It seems not.
Their frenzied activity sharply contrasts my lassitude. Yet is there some
desperation in their movements? Is their laugh slightly louder than it should
be? Is it faith that spurs them on or desperation? I do not ask. I would rather
not know. I imagine they would rather not answer.

We do not speak of our absences from the Basin. We call it "sleeping". Perhaps
others sleep. I do not. I wish I could. No, I wander. I watch. An observer at
best but likely more akin to a voyeur. Constantly seeking that which I have lost
until I retrace my steps and return home. Older, wiser, stranger. Colder.

Do not misunderstand me. There are amusements to be had still. I struggle to
recall them now but I know they exist. When my mind is of a less morbid bent I
seek them out. Not today though. Today, I mourn.

I am a demigod. I am an Avatar. I am the Scion of the ancient and revered house
of Inalai. I am tired. I am indifferent. I dream of death.