Who, and what, am I? How do I describe myself. What words do I use first?

Mage? Woman? Alchemist? Believer? Dreamer?

I lay awake tossing and turning. Everything is in flux and I’m starting to feel it; a centripetal force pushing me forward. But to where? And what is the cause of it?

I have invited Dauneth over to stay in my quarters. And yet here I sit, scribbling away, looking out the window from the communal balcony. He sleeps soundly, as though he has no questions. He’s always at peace, though we live through wartime. I envy him.

Bah, Druids! They think the flux is calming. Perhaps they’ve tricked themselves into believing it.

I must go to sleep.