There are certain things people do that change our lives for eternity.

Maybe you have experienced that sort of confusion, frustration, or pain. Maybe you are still trying to learn how to deal with it, as many of us are. Maybe you don't even realize the differences in you.

I am one of those people-a Lost Seeker, as they are called among us. The Diviners-that is the name.

The Diviners are a sect from the Order of the Mystic-an order of those 'blessed' with magical abilities.

Who am I? I am Morana. My power is dominion over ice-making me an Ice Diviner-but never did I ask for it. I am not the only accidental-most of us in the Order are. But as before, I am a Lost Seeker. I ventured too far into magic's masked secrets. While I continued with no intention to harness the power, I was ensnared. The cold, clammy fingers of unforgiving ice crept forth to catch me. While I can now wield ice with confidence, I paid the price.

Frost crept across my soul. No longer do I greet the dawn and warm, sun-kissed summer. No longer do I welcome the breezes that toss my hair to the wind. No longer do I enjoy the gentle smell of summertime roses, the flowers that I once cupped in my hand. No longer, no longer.

I could not live with myself when I realized what I'd done.

There is a price for everything.

For one to gain magic in the way I did, and with that, immortality-one must die. I was not aware of this terrible price, or I may have turned, turned away from the secrets.

I will never see my cousin's smiling face again.

She fell ill. Terminally ill.

After the funeral, the grieving, the silent tears in the dark, I wanted nothing more then to give her back what I stole in my selfishness. I sought out the unyielding Spirit of Ice, and pleaded with her.

“Give her back-you can take me to your wintry depths. Take me, take me.”

But in cruel judgment, my cries went unheeded.

You, the one who knows nothing of my sorrow, may ask what is so terrible about ice.

Ice is the element of eternal darkness, of destruction-all that I never wished to be.

I can't control my magic. I may, inadvertently, harm someone, even kill them, because of the power for control that was denied. The Lady of the Ice-Cask is not kind. She does not surrender, she does not exchange, she does not give-nothing to offer release to her victims.

For 3 years, I crawled through a frozen void. I was rescued and inducted into the Order by Daiki. There is support among my fellow Magi for me, but their kindness does not reach to me.

My heart is frozen, forever.

Life is bleak. I will forever live among the people of existence, within their reach but so very far away.

The cold nights greet me as I turn my face from day.

There is no music, no sweet melody-just the harsh chords, so out of tune; spinning out of control as the Celestial Conductor falls to his knees, the weight of sadness never soothed by his music descending at last to his ageless shoulders.

I don't know why I still bother fighting Destiny.

Is it possible that I still hope? Still dream? Still dare after so many years of broken-hearted vigils of remembrance?

I am still caught in the grasp of ice.

But I may yet break free.