Read this at your own risk ~ Rev. Wesley Halifax

During my fitful sleep I had many dreams, include one in which I was walking along the sea-shore and was being splashed in the face again and again by warm sea foam. On waking my first thought was of Oliver, and my heart swelled with love and my senses ached with desire to see him, to touch him, to perform the ultimate act of love with him. But then, clouding over my joy was the memory of what he had said, that I was too old for him.

It was six in the morning and the servants were already up and about. I went to the kitchen and asked Mary to prepare breakfast for Oliver and myself. She seemed surprised but only said that she would start immediately. I returned to the ottoman and sat and watched Oliver sleep. What a riot of feelings I felt sitting there, watching him in repose. Such tenderness in one minute, disdain the next, and absolute lust the next.

He soon woke and as I expected, remembered nothing of the night before. He believed that he had overindulged in drink. He did not ask why he was wearing another man's clothing, he simply asked for his own. He seemed in a hurry to go and I had no interest in persuading him to stay, perplexed and down-hearted as I was. And so he left and so I had the remainder of the day to cry and to regret my actions.

It is foolish indeed to take only a few steps down the left-hand path and then try to return, as I had done. One should either take the path entirely, or one must avoid it entirely. I could make Oliver mine through any number of ways, through employing the spell again, or through other types of mind-control. But then would Oliver be himself? Or a mindless marionette? Those who sincerely take the left-hand path do not care whether their consorts are truly themselves or not - it is the power and the control over other beings that matters to them. This is the source of their evil - their absolute indifference to the volition of others. I loved Oliver for his own unique Oliverness, and would not be happy unless he retained the same, and even if that should mean he would not love me, and would not willingly spend time in my company, I must endure it.

My damn fool heart does not accept that he would never love me, however. It had been infected with hope and insists I not lose faith, however much my mind tells me otherwise. It is a kind of hell, to have your heart at war with your head. But if that is my only punishment for my transgression against the right-hand path, I should consider myself fortunate. For I have allowed a small gap in my defenses: I am infected now with the left-hand way and sooner or later the Evil One will detect it and she will waste no time in exploiting it. I must do my best to forget about my feelings about Oliver and instead think about what, if anything, there is to be done. My own mortal survival may depend on it.

(To be continued...)