The seal is warm. It is your breath. It is your skin.

You are the crier. You are the keeper. The room is small. The air is thick. It smells of wax. It smells of old blood.

You are in a dream. You know it is a dream. The light is wrong. It is too still. It does not move. It does not blink.

You hold the signet. It is gold. It is heavy. It bites into your palm. You have held it for a hundred years. Or perhaps a hundred seconds. Time is a loose thread. It pulls. It snaps.

You are old. Your hands are maps of veins. Your skin is paper. You feel the weight of the years. They are not years. They are layers. Like rings in a tree. You are the tree. You are the wood.

Margaret is gone. She has been gone for a long time. Her face is a ghost in the wax. You remember her. You remember her voice. It was low. It was soft. It was the only sound that mattered.

She loved you. Not as a wife. Not as a sister. She loved you as a thing. A vessel. A home for her obsession.

You are the vessel. You are the home.

The door does not open. The door is a wall. The wall is stone. The stone is cold. But you are hot. You are burning.

The betrayal is not a knife. It is a whisper. It is a name.

Edward.

His name is in the wax. You carved it. You carved it deep. You carved it until your fingers bled. You carved it to keep him. To bind him. To make him stay.

But he is not there.

He is never there.

He is only in the gold. He is only in the seal.

You are the seal.

The room closes in. The walls breathe. They are alive. They are hungry.

You try to remember Margaret. You try to remember her touch. It was cold. It was like water. It was like ice.

She left you. She left you with the gold. She left you with the duty.

The duty is eternal.

You are the crier. You must cry. You must weep. The tears are salt. The salt is in the wax. The wax hardens. The wax sets.

You are setting. You are becoming stone.

This is the first turn. The turn of the hand. The hand that carves. The hand that holds. The hand that fails.

You look at the seal. The face on the seal is yours. It is not Margaret. It is you.

You misread the sign. You thought it was love. It was a trap. A beautiful trap. A golden cage.

You are the bird. You are the cage.

The air is thinner now. It is hard to breathe. The oxygen is gone. The oxygen was a lie.

You are alone. You have always been alone.

The second turn. The turn of the eye. The eye that sees. The eye that lies.

You see the shadow. The shadow is long. The shadow is dark. The shadow is Edward.

He is standing in the corner. He is not there. But the shadow is there.

He betrayed you. He took the gold. He took the name. He took the life.

You did not know. You were too busy loving. You were too busy crying.

Love is a blindfold. You wore it tight. You wore it until your eyes bled.

Now you see.

The seeing is pain. The pain is truth.

The truth is you are nothing. You are only the vessel. The vessel is empty. The vessel is cracked.

Margaret knew. She knew you were empty. She filled you with gold. She filled you with duty. She filled you with herself.

But she is gone.

The gold remains.

The third turn. The turn of the mouth. The mouth that speaks. The mouth that screams.

You scream. No one hears. The room is deaf. The room is blind. The room is dead.

Your voice is dust. Your voice is smoke. It rises. It fades. It is gone.

You try to speak her name. Margaret. The name is a stone in your throat. It blocks the air. It blocks the light.

You cannot breathe. You cannot live. You must not live.

Living is a mistake. Living is a wound.

You are the wound.

The gold is hot. It burns your palm. It burns your heart.

You want to let go. You want to drop it. You want to break it.

But you cannot.

The hand is fused. The hand is part of the gold. The gold is part of you.

This is the unity. This is the one.

You are the Golden Master. You are the Master of Gold. You are the Gold of Masters.

The title is a joke. The title is a curse.

The fourth turn. The turn of the soul. The soul that falls. The soul that rises.

You fall.

You fall into the wax. You sink. The wax is warm. The wax is kind.

It is better here. It is better to be still. It is better to be silent.

The dream is ending. The dream is waking.

You are waking up.

But you do not want to wake up.

The waking is pain. The waking is loss.

Here, in the wax, you are whole. Here, in the gold, you are loved.

Margaret is in the wax. Edward is in the wax. You are in the wax.

We are one.

We are the seal.

The seal is perfect. The seal is eternal.

The sun rises. The light breaks the room. The light is cruel. The light is real.

You are in a bed. The bed is cold. The sheets are white. The white is blinding.

You are old. You are dying.

Your hand is on the pillow. Your hand is empty.

The gold is gone.

The seal is gone.

Margaret is gone.

You remember. You remember the dream. You remember the wax. You remember the gold.

It was a dream.

Or was it?

You look at your hand. The skin is thin. The bones are sharp.

You feel the weight. The weight is in your bones. The weight is in your blood.

You are the crier.

You cry.

The tears fall. The tears hit the pillow. The pillow is dark. The dark is wet.

The wetness spreads. The wetness is the wax. The wax is the life.

You are melting.

You are becoming the signet.

The room is small. The room is the world. The world is the seal.

The seal is broken.

The seal is whole.

You accept it.

The acceptance is a surrender. The surrender is a victory.

You are defeated.

The defeat is the truth.

The truth is beautiful.

The truth is sad.

The truth is you.

You close your eyes.

The darkness is warm.

The darkness is gold.

You are the gold.

You are the master.

You are the master of nothing.

You are the master of all.

The end is a beginning. The beginning is an end.

The circle is closed.

The circle is open.

You breathe.

The breath is a sigh.

The sigh is a prayer.

The prayer is an answer.

The answer is silence.

The silence is peace.

The peace is death.

The death is life.

You are alive.

You are dead.

You are the seal.

The seal is warm.

It is your breath.

It is your skin.

It is you.

The gold is in your veins. The gold is in your heart. The gold is in your eyes.

You see the world. The world is gold. The world is fire. The world is ash.

Margaret is in the ash. Edward is in the ash. You are in the ash.

The ash is white. The ash is clean.

The clean is pure.

The pure is holy.

The holy is gone.

You are gone.

The story is done.

The words are dust.

The dust is gone.

The silence remains.

The silence is you.

The silence is me.

The silence is us.

We are the gold.

We are the seal.

We are the master.

We are the end.

The end is now.

Now is forever.

Forever is a moment.

The moment is a breath.

The breath is a word.

The word is gold.

The gold is heavy.

The heavy is true.

The true is real.

The real is here.

Here is now.

Now is you.

You are the seal.

The seal is set.

The set is stone.

The stone is cold.

The cold is dead.

The dead is still.

The still is peace.

The peace is done.

Done.