I'm suddenly finding it hard to know the difference between nightmares and consciousness.

Perhaps... you love too fiercely.

It's quiet for a while, and then Rowan says; "We could talk now. We're alone out here. No walls." "There are always walls." I say.

She's beautiful and graceful, and she is very compassionate and loyal when you aren't responsible for the murder of her family.

There's a sort of dead passion in him. A spark that, had he more years to live, would be a wildfire.

She would do anything, anything to belong to his son after a lifetime of belonging to no one at all.

I don't know if it was love or an illusion. I don't know if there's ever a way to be certain.