This air, it’s so persistently damp and cold, it actually reminds me of the deep winter back in Whitestone. That familiar chill immediately makes me think about the last true Winter's Crest we shared, which feels like a lifetime ago.

​ I have no idea what day it is, and I deeply miss the clarity that comes from stable environments. Instead of the calculated, predictable focus that I crave, we are all stuck navigating this persistent absurdity.

​ And yet, even amidst this chaos, it is a profound relief to have those closest to me nearby. Our purpose here is critical, and we will see it through. I simply yearn for the day when I can return to my own structures, when I can enjoy the spiced cakes and pastries from home that fill the air during the holiday, rather than enduring this.

​ The celebrations back home are how my family anchors ourselves in history and peace. They remind us that all the madness eventually leads to quiet, ordinary life.

​ So, fellow travelers, what are the tiny, wonderful things you're missing? What is the equivalent festival or time of quiet for you? Tell me about anything that reminds you of a place that follows basic, sensible rules.

-Keylethus Pikegratia Taryon d’Shorthalt-Grogson, Heir to the Shattered Glory.
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​(P.S. If anyone has a recipe for a truly strong black tea, your help would be a tremendous relief.)