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a few torn pages from a book flutter in the breeze on the wall, in neat small writing it reads...

The sun rises, yet my heart is too heavy to enjoy it's beauty today. I cry, sitting alone in the forest as the first splashes of color touch the ground.
I shiver in fear as I remember things I would as soon forget, and ponder many other things that cause so much pain. Why? Why was I led to this town? Why, do I always have such a cosumming need to help and heal others? Perhaps it has something to do with my childhood, perhaps not. Perhaps the higher powers want it this way. That would make some sense then, as they did not let me go to the spirit realm that fatefull morning. They kept me here and would not let me go. Why? What do they want from me more than I have not already done? "His" voice, "his" eyes still is vivid in my mind make me shake and cry harder. "Why me?," I whisper to the wind. And I will never forget the eyes, those cold, cruel, grey colored, seemingly lifeless eyes and I cry. I also weep for Irania, she did not wish this upon herself. "He" decided to use My blood to do his dark ritual. "He" decided to resurrect her from the spirit realm unbidden and unasked. I greive for her, and wish her peace from any confusion, agony, or pain. I hold no ill will toward her, I cannot. It is not in my nature. I can even find that I can forgive "him" his love for her. But I cannot forgive the use of that dark deed. Love motivates, Love heals, Love destroys. And I worry, oh how I worry. Would "he" do this again if she should seek her own death. What would stop "him" from resurrecting another? Who would be next? The eyes, the voice,the man, the deed, are they all Karmane? I say yes they are. I have seen his eyes more than once, I have heard his voice, more than once, I have seen the man more than once. They are the same man. Irania walks the streets,and yet he denies taking my blood that morning for the dark ritual to ressurect her. So I must ask again, Why?
Is Karmane the perfect actor who hides his dark deeds behind acts of healing and good will and untruths? Is Karmane's mind torn and shattered and changing like the wind, with only half memories or even none at all of his own doings? Is Karmane possessed of a higher power than himself and cannot help what he does? Will my blood be needed for yet another ritual? I ponder these thoughts and I greive. I pity us all. I fear for the innocents. I weep for us all. Is the taint of this dark ritual going to grow? Will it borrow insideously deeper untill it destroys what "good" may be left. I also weep for those who turned away from me because they felt they must for their own sakes, because they do not see what is before them. I weep for those whom I must push away from me because I fear for their safety. I cry for those who have supported and protected me as they are persecuted for their beliefs. I weep for what has been. I weep for what is yet to come.
I can and have forgiven, but I can not forget. The anger burns, the lonelyness haunts, the wish for peace continues, the forgivenss comes slowly, the desire to be loved lingers, and the consumming drive to heal others stays and will not leave me.
My heart bursts and tears flow down my cheeks in torrents. Why?

I am sorrow.

I am Mia Handur

Jeremy stares in disbelief at the message on the wall. New in town and only little known to the inhabitants he feels his heart go cold upon reading Mia's story. The woman he has only met twice and yet has helped him so much has been through so much pain. He had wondered why she was so sad and tried clumsily to comfort her. He had tried to get her to reveal the cause of her grief and pain. No wonder she kept her silence....not wishing to burden him with her suffering. Foolishly, perhaps, he had come searching for answers not knowing what he would find. Now, horrified and grieving, he has his answer.
"Mia, I hardly know you, but already I know you are a good person and did not deserve this. Now I understand a bit about your grief, your pain and sorrow. I am small and weak, young and probably foolish. But I vow here and now to stand by you and help you as best I can. I know not what is in my power to do, but whatever the cost to me, I WILL stand by you. You deserve no less."
Tears fall from Jeremy's eyes as he thinks of the burden placed on such a kind and beautiful woman. Sadly he turns from the wall and walks away.

At night a tall dark shadow silently steps to the wall and stands still.
He takes his black glove off and puts his hand on the book's page.
He puts his head down, closing his eyes, touching his forehead against the wall.

His eyes are closed, under his eyelids - a gray abyss of numb emptiness.
A single tear drops down his face and freezes into a tiny sparkle of ice.
With a curse, the man exhales:

"I am sorry."

The ungloved hand places a fresh branch of heath flower under the pin of the note, filling the air with a herbal aroma.

He stands for a minute, and whithers away.

In the morning, you find the flower pinned to a note, and a frozen tear.