I gorged on the fruits of the sticky Grail. I will not grow old.

I wrestled the Forge to victory. I will not grow old.

I walked behind the Watchman. I will not grow old.

My body died. Perhaps my spirit entered the Mansus.

I no longer have any idea what is real, and what is not.

Despair, the wolf that devours thought, devoured me.

I honoured my agreement, but I did not have a friend.

My trial was contentious. But thanks to the Inspector, here I am.

I will be honoured by my peers. And then, one day, I'll die.

I worked. I slaved. I lived a sort of life.

I conjured a creature from beyond the skin of the world.

I sharpened a believer to their deadliest Edge.

I pledged a believer to the Feast of the Grail.

I shaped a mighty believer from the fires of the Forge.

I drew a believer to the endless Dance of the Heart.

I forged a believer into a true instrument of Knock.

I led a believer to the Wood of the Moth.

I cast a believer onto the Lantern's path.

.....................

I dedicated myself to the study of the five Histories, and their thousand demi-real branches.

I dedicated myself to the fire that changes and remakes.

I dedicated myself to the Hours of struggle and conquest.

I dedicated myself to the mysteries of birth, blood and appetite.

I dedicated myself to the drumbeat which can never end.

I dedicated myself to the understanding of the Light that leaks from a fiercer place.

I dedicated myself to the Hours which open doors.

I dedicated myself to chaos, and the unexpected Hours.

I dedicated myself to the silence that comes and the cold that ends.

Speech may not pass the White Door, but I may.

The Wood grows around the walls of the Mansus. As any student of Histories knows, the Mansus has no walls.

I have answered the riddle of the Stag Door, and am counted among the Know.

I have made the necessary sacrifice to enter the Mansus through the Spider Door.

It has pleased the Peacock Door to yield to my entry.

I have joined the storm-chorus of the Thunderskin. Never shall I cease.

I have become something winged, dark and undying; something that no longer exists.

She wants very much to be found.

Our flesh may tire. We may grow old. But I will not regret.

We find, we think, a way.

I may give him his reward.

We are happy, I think.

We seem a suited pair.

I would not say it ended badly.

I am drunk with her.

Now we are scholars of the heart.

One by one we douse the flames.

I am well repaid.

He thanks me afterwards.

It is hard to tell, with him, whether to laugh or cry.

She ensures I have sweet dreams.

Our home is littered with his notes.

That is enough.

Life is not easy with her.

Our house is home to fluttering things.

Our heartbeats quicken together.

We dream the same pink dreams.

We wrestled the Forge to victory. We will not grow old.

He is the melody of love, and I hear him now.

We gorged on the fruits of the sticky Grail. We will not grow old.

We walked behind the Watchman. We will not grow old.

We have become something winged, dark and undying; something that no longer exists.

We have joined the storm-chorus of the Thunderskin. Never shall we cease.

I was consumed, but another I rose higher.

I am a successful trophy.

I was devoured, by another I rose higher.

I was lost to another I's glory.

This is when I would have died, but my wounds were doors.

In the Fifth History alone, I will rise like a wave and hood myself to mark what I have become.

I carry the colours of lost Hours with me like a coal of rosy fire.

I couldn't risk them picking up the trail again.

I have taken the seeds of the Crowned Growth into me.

NO RECKONERS, NO EXCEPTIONS.

I've been poor, I've been rich, and I've learnt that I'd rather be rich.

Somehow I can't stop thinking about it...

I have one very specific recommendation for the contract...'

There's a lot of the world, and it's not all mapped yet.

I don't think it really qualifies as a cadaver, so much as a souvenir.

The opposite of battle is death.

The Corrivality is the world's engine.

The Wolf and all the wandering flames will feast.

Any student of Histories knows: as within, so without. One way or another.