Cold.

Unfamiliar. Where am I?

No, wait... familiar.

That tree. The Reach?

How did I get all the way out here? ... ... No. Not the Reach. Too much snow for this time of year.

Close, though. Western Reach. High Rock. I remember now.

The old shack near Jehanna.

Our old shack.

What was left of it when I last saw it, anyway.

So I am dreaming.

Haven't thought about this place in a long time, actually. Vaermina must be digging deep for this one.

...

I know this isn't real. That isn't really you. But figment of my imagination or her meddling notwithstanding, it's still nice to see you, Gwenevere.

Or dream of you, as is the case.

...

Heh. I'm talking to myself right now. Dreaming of talking to myself.

Could be worse, I guess. Compared to the other dreams, this is... ... this is at least kind of nice.

...

...

*sigh*

Heh. Silent?

Makes sense, I suppose. I honestly can't think of anything for you to say. Suppose she can't either... or she knows she doesn't have to. I mean, what could you say, when you already said everything that needed to be said?

I'm the one that still has things needing to be said. Still thousands of apologies for what I put you through. For the sleepless nights. For the screaming.

For the anger.

For the...

...

...

For everything.

...

But you know what? Most of all, I've realized that I never... never properly thanked you.

What I put you through... you deserved far, far better than that. But I...

...

You tried. You understood, and you tried. You stood by me when it felt like the entire damned Aurbis seemed to abandon me. You tried to help.

And you did, in the end. Even when I finally got to my absolute worst after you left, I remembered. Remembered the person I was.

The person you were trying to help make me again.

And I finally realized I was letting you down. All your effort going to waste.

I finally stopped worrying about my own dwindling, twisted, morphing standards, and started striving for yours. For your sake.

And I made it out of that dark place.

You helped me finally make it out.

...

...

But you know what kills me?

I don't know where you are.

I don't know if you're even still alive.

I'll probably never get to tell you any of this.