What tragedy, this, that the living craft their own chains of iron to the dead. So long as she is bound, neither herself nor her mother will find peace. Somnus does not shift from where he stands, appearing to consider her question. He answers thus, his voice a low, hollow steel, ]
It was your dream.
[ He stops speaking there, allowing her to reply if she must, although it may be that he has more to say. ]
no subject
"I wish I could."
What tragedy, this, that the living craft their own chains of iron to the dead. So long as she is bound, neither herself nor her mother will find peace. Somnus does not shift from where he stands, appearing to consider her question. He answers thus, his voice a low, hollow steel, ]
It was your dream.
[ He stops speaking there, allowing her to reply if she must, although it may be that he has more to say. ]