As the sorrowful wind stubbornly blew the pages of his brother's diary way, Edward struggled to gather as many as he could in the vain hope that they could somehow assuage his pain. Defeated, he fell to the piano's bench, unmindful of the falling snow. Clutching to his chest the few ones he'd been able to retrieve, Edward felt tormented by the eerie beauty of the frozen lake, the final stage of his brother's tragic story. Warily, he started to scan the random notes. No dates, no chronological order, nothing as mundane as structure to guide Edward through the maze of Jasper's fractured mind.