Now that Enchanted Castle was up and running again, I found myself returning more and more seeking out the comfort and belonging that the place used to grant me. Even though I am not quite whom I used to be, I had the dulled illusion that home would mean something that wasn't different. Something that never changed.

How truely wrong I had been. Though it is still the same building, still the same realm, it is so much more different then it once was. Perhaps it is because of the freezing. Perhaps it is merely because I am no longer the same, and nothing will ever truely be the same again. I hope it is the former, for the prospect that nothing will truely ever be the way it was is daunting and quite disappointing.

The rooms, which once were packed full of busybodies, now seem to large, too quite. Many have travelled on leaving their past at the frozen footfalls that once composed this beloved castle. Few have returned. I must say I was disappointed at exactly how few were eager to return home, as I was.

Perhaps it was myne journies that rekindled the longing to be home. The strong desire to spend ones final days in the place that they most felt comfortable. Safe. And thus, myne notes are composed on fresh parchments from the desk within Enchantica's Archive Room. Long since abandoned, it is very rare that my reading, my writing is inturrupted. All seem to have forgotten about this little room and the woman whom, once upon a time, fretted about the place.

I find it truely amazing how easily one can forget. The living and dead alike, seem to take for granted that which I hold dearly. Tradition, family, familarity. These things that bind us to the world. That make up whom we are, and whom we shall live eternity a part of. The world has changed immensly since I was a young lass, many many centuries ago. And, as I am certain, it shall continue to do so long after I am gone. Perhaps some day people will begin to forget less and less. Perhaps they will once again find their way back to the thing's that truely matter in this world, and the next.

Who knows. Some day those long gone may return. Perhaps they will enter the Archive Room long after I have gone, and discover my momories on this desk. Perhaps they will read myne written words, myne thoughts. Myne hopes. And perhaps then, they will begin to remember the way it used to be...