So I have one legitimate ancient goddess, two gods… ghosts… possessors… whatever, and then you. I don’t really have a word for you. You’re not godlike, though you certainly encompass the mother/maiden/crone. You’re not a ghost or spirit, for deep within you carry my animating spark in a way those men do not. Alter ego? Once upon a time, yes, but that term does your individuality a disservice. Mentor? Maybe. Guardian? In a way, but not an angelic one. You evolved, I suppose, just like they did – into what, though, I don’t know. In my dreams I wear your body and it’s exhilarating; your power, your strength and agility, your vengeful glee. Yet no matter how much I enjoy them, those dreams bring me no closer to understanding what you truly are. All that comes to mind are metaphors and titles, nothing concrete, nothing I could offer to someone else as explanation. Are you so used to defying expectations and rules that you wish to defy categorization as well? Do you so enjoy being an enigma even to me?