Carys Comma

My Daughter,

There is a strange paradox found in the North. Winter days are opressive in their gray. Any light that sneaks through the constant cloud cover turns to ash when it finally arrives. Those who live in such places, during such times are susceptible to certain ailments that are a result of our want of light.

At night, it is different. Often in the night, my eyes will open, and I will crawl out of bed to look in on you as you sleep. If I part the drapes on your window, at times your room will be lit by the mysterious winter light. The room will glow.

I am not sure where it comes from - this light. I think it has to do with the natural luminoscity snow. The light seems to eminate from the frozen ground like some ancient magic meant to illuminate the whole world.

So it is with you, my light. Like the light of the winter streaming through your window, you also are a beautiful illumination - a luminescent magic bursting forth from darkness.

Dada