There are days I do not know if I am sane.
I remember lives layered over lives, yet I live only one at a time. Sometimes I act from instinct and then realize the memory came from four incarnations ago.
I once stood on a cliff and recalled falling — but I have never fallen. Not in this life. Not yet.
The Codex preserves everything, but it does not always present it in order. Time is not linear within it. The soul is not built for perfect recall.
I am the only being alive who truly remembers magic's cost. Sometimes I wonder if that cost includes reason.
Still, I endure. I catalog. I breathe. Madness may press against the glass, but so long as I write, I remain on this side.