I remember well the night you killed the priest and fled. The flames leapt high, devouring the smithy with a rage seldom seen, the same rage that burned within your heart. I was by your side, though you could not see me, touch me, or hear me. I screamed at you, begging you to forgive my weakness, but in place of my voice you heard only the wind. I admit, what I did was neither right nor fair, but my world had collapsed. You were my light, Balian, I could not live with the thought that I had done anything to cause you pain. I saw your face when our child breathed his first and only breath, I saw your eyes change from profound joy to immeasurable sorrow in a matter of seconds. How could I carry on knowing that I have failed the one whom I loved above all? I should have been more careful during the pregnancy, I should have listened to you when you begged me to take better care of myself, I should have done so many things that I didn't. I should have told you all of this before I acted, but I was weak, too weak to ask for your help though I knew you would readily give it. And now, this is my punishment. I am to linger near, to be a shadow in the world of the living and watch, watch you weep and try to carry on. No longer can my words soothe, no longer can my touch comfort. They both pass through you without you noticing.

I was proud of the way you defended me, yet I knew I deserved none of it. But you needed to flee, Balian, you needed a new life. Though not through the kindest of words, that priest pushed you to move on. For his unkindness he paid with is life. I see him on occasion, wandering and watching the same as I. Even a man of the cloth must atone for his sins. You brought me such joy when you reunited with your father. He was a good man, and I assure you, he entered the Kingdom of Heaven without any further hardship. He may not have been with you long, but I saw the mark he left on you. He gave you a new purpose, set you in a place of power that suited you. Not many could have done what you did, Balian. Not many men have such integrity. To think I surrendered it all so easily. You loved me still, I saw it in your bowed head on Golgotha, yet as you buried my crucifix, so too you buried your life with me. Of course you did, what else could you have done? You prayed and prayed for my salvation, unknowingly layering my guilt. There was nowhere else to step but forward, through the door and into a new life. Indeed it suited you well.

Then, you met her, the princess of Jerusalem. Beautiful, intelligent, caught in a suppressing world ruled by men. You were her escape, you gave her understanding when no one else cared enough to listen. She came to you, her intentions clear, and you did not deny her. She is young and full of life, it would do you no good to love a ghost, a ghost's whose hands can no longer caress, a ghost's whose lips can no longer kiss. I do not deny the pain I felt, but it was of little consequence. What mattered was that you were healing. You were able to love again, a gift that I will never have. So in this bitterness there was joy, and watching you live your life without me became more bearable. I do not hate her. Envy her, yes, but never hate. She is stronger than I ever was.

The Holy Land held you for a while. Its beauties and its horrors enthralled you, but in the end, when you saw what men were really made of, you came home. You amazed me Balian, you were always a man of principle, but to hold tothose principles when an entire army stands ready to trample you to dust is a rare quality. You could have had power, you could have had riches, but you've seen the corrupt world such luxuries lead to. Youchose a simpler life. She came back with you, and here you are, starting again. It is just as it used to be, except the woman in your life now is her, not me. She will please you better and not give up so easily. It will be a good life, Balian, I promise you.