He is dead...because we have forgotten him.

So he believed. Believed, but the seed of doubt was there, and it stayed, and every now and then sent out a little root. It changed everything, to have that se…

It was a kind of magic:; a sacrifice that somehow stilled the dark gods that hunted for his soul.

You remember this little boy; they never tell you anymore truth than they have to.

Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land.

A place in thy memory, dearest, Is all that I claim; To pause and look back when thou hearest The sound of my name.

In a wood they call the Rouge Bouquet, There is a new-made grave today, Built by never a spade nor pick, Yet covered with earth ten meteres thick. There lie ma…