· У·ФЖШ·Л · Deep within me, it burned, the black flame of the Nothing, sunken and consumed in itself, alone and in peace, in solitude and abandonment. And it was dark and silent in the thoughts of the Nothing, so dark, so lonely, and so silent that no one ever noticed how the light slowly began to dream, to dream ever deeper, to fantasize, and finally to transform into a vampire. The Art of Transformation · У·ФФЖ · Very slowly, the light dreamed of a time that never existed in Neverwhen, of a place that did not exist in Neverwhen. The Nothing imagined a mask in its delusion, in which I began to admire, marvel at, and contemplate myself until I briefly believed myself to be a puppet, wandering through my feelings and conversing with the thoughts in my mind. Who Speaks with Their Thoughts · У·ФФФ·Ф · I began to believe I was my thoughts, to converse with death and the dead, bizarre figures from my invisible graveyard, from imagination. I started conversing with myself and slowly went completely mad in the process. I longed for a warrior and convinced myself I was my counterpart. To be what I deeply desired within, my warrior, the Nothing, death. The Mirror Grave
