I can turn full circle and see only grass and trees, the occasional lake reflects the sky back at itself blue on blue, calm reflected in calm. The air is fresh here, no city scents, no salt tang. It's so quiet - occasionally noise carries from Garadar, brief snatches, nothing more. I have flown occasionally there to restock necessary provisions but I have had little contact with anyone for weeks now. I have stayed on this floating island, alone save for the comforting presence of Lenore, my wind rider. She has given me wings when I need them, company when I've craved it, the warmth of her fur during cooler nights.
Finally, I have healed. The pure magics I have wrought have faded all marks, save the two in the palms of my hands, but they are now blemishes, nothing worse. Finally, finally the fel has left my system. My head is clear, although my sleep is still interrupted often. I wake bathed in sweat with my heart pounding, but then I breathe deeply, taste the freshness of the air and remember that I am here now. Not there. To confirm this, I reach out my arm until I feel the warmth of Lenore's fur, then I drift into sleep again. My island is my sanctuary, my salvation. Yet I know I must brave the world again soon. I cannot stay here forever. And the longer I stay, the more I will want remain here, adrift from everything. Floating.
I will not return to the City for sometime. I would pause before walking round every corner, I would wince as footsteps fell into a pattern behind me, flinch everytime someone brushed past me and I could not bear to try and live like that. I will return to the frozen wastes of the North; my funds are lessening gradually and I should begin to address this. The North is a vast expanse, surely I can leave my demons behind me?