My name is Jennifer.
Her name was Jennifer.
We are Jennifer.
The forest speaks through cycles, seasons, suns and moons, and through me, she roars, a primal incantation through the bough of the three and the dance of my people.
Rotting trunks and deep wood spheres, they record the history of these lands. My heart, her heart, his heart, our hearts, they recall and beat the life blood of this rocky and desolate wood.
The Circle has watched.
The Circle has waited.
It has found me, again.
I do not know what the druid wanted, nor do I care. My people must be guided to the new land of the future, with or without Yedda’s blessing. She called on me to sacrifice my life once, to quell the wrath of the Ancients who slumber deep in the forest in tomb glades and barrier bound Winterfell.
But I will not give my life again.
Faustus, the creature now named Anima, will not have his heart broken once more.
This is my Oath.
This is my calling.