Father,

I know no songs written of hunger.

Yet, even now, it beats relentlessly, pulsing as would the heart of a demon who claws at the insides of my abdomen. He is a nameless demon, shapeless too, but with a voice nonetheless. Let me consume you, and your hunger too, so that you may never feel hungry again. This morning, I opened my mouth and urged him out, but he refused, responding only with disgust in the form of grunts and groans. Maybe I'm no longer worthy of being eaten—too ugly, too despicable, that I would stain whoever ate me. Stuffing my mouth with hay, I curled up against Rigel's back again, two warm bodies upon a cold Avalon, a lonely ship upon an even more desolate ocean.

Rigel must have already been awake.

"What's wrong, big sis?"

I am not his sister.

I wish I could ask November again why he had sworn me to bring Rigel across the ocean. Was it really all that November had claimed it to be: our necklace, our status, and nothing else? Or was there something more? Did November feel indebted to Rigel just as he did to me? Maybe I, too, feel indebted to you for a similar reason.

Like a child uncomfortable in silence, Rigel turned to look at me from the corner of his vision, his movement further prompting a response from me. The soft rattling of his gold chains aroused my curiosity. I had to ask.

"Rigel, what do you see in your snowglobe?"

I write this letter in hopes that you may read it someday, so that you may learn about me as I have learned about you. I'm sure you know, but the winds of your accomplishments travel far. There are few in Alveria who do not know of your legacy. After all, you make little effort to hide it. As we, your children, grow up, we are inevitably faced with the truth of our creation. Should we feel shame for such an irresponsible father, even though we never had any say in who our parents were? Or should we feel pride, and put your gift on display, a world of snow, a dream tied to industrial chains, a reminder that we are forever different from those born of one night, one mistake, and nine months of regret? November ran away from home that night seven years ago, breaking his father's arm for one final chance, his only chance, at a life outside his father's prison. Charlotte's parents knew no love either, taking him in the next day, like naive teenagers bringing home an injured dog only to take joy in its suffering. At least I can say I have a father who loves me enough to create me, piece by piece, nuts and bolts and brains and all that. I'm sure you had your reasons for leaving so soon after giving me the gift of life, retreating back onto your throne atop Starfall Tower, and I don't blame you for that. But really, I just want to know: why? Why did you create me? Why did you create Rigel? Why did you create any of us, your precious snow children, just to abandon us to the waves of the wilderness?

"My snowglobe looks like outside the window! There's a lot of water bouncing around but there's also snowflakes. I guess there's no snowflakes outside… What does yours look like, sis?"

That had surprised me. I had never paid much attention to Rigel's snowglobe, but I had seen countless others in my life. They were all similar to mine, a blossoming cherry tree amidst a winter wonderland. Father, why is Rigel's different?

Our conversation this morning was interrupted by the most unfortunate occurrence. I hear you were the first to settle the Sovereignty—I suppose it wasn't called that before you came. Was the weather so bad when you first landed?

The storm hit us at around five in the morning. We had already eaten all the food on board, so there really wasn't much to lose but our lives (so, not much to lose). Charlotte had spoken of the Sovereignty once, calling it "a graveyard for both the waters and the winds." That phrase only hit me, quite literally, when the single mast of the Avalon ripped off the ship and flew into the distance. I suppose we didn't need that sail anyway, with just how rapid the waters were, carrying us almost as fast as the sail had flown. Just seconds later, the ship jolted to a stop. Rigel has a big body, so I think he was okay, but the sudden stop flung my small self onto the stairs to the deck. It hurt.

Why do all the winds blow toward the Sovereignty anyway? And same with the water—once it reaches the end of its journey, here at the Sovereignty, where does it go? Surely, it can't just stay here, or else no one else in the world would have water anymore. And speaking of the weather, it's quite cold. It wasn't snowing when we were still sailing, but it started snowing then, and it hasn't stopped since. Snowflakes, fluffy as the feathers of a black swan, breezed past us as they followed the winds inland. What are you doing with all this wind, water, and snow? Is that how we're made?

By the time they found us, we were already unconscious from the cold and hunger. Seeing our necklaces, the locals who found us seemed to relax, agreeing amongst themselves to carry us toward their settlement. In my stupor, I noticed that many of them wore their snowglobes quite visibly—only a few seemed to have hidden it or not had it on them at all. The next time I awoke, I saw Rigel next to me again, his big stupid body rising and falling slowly to a rhythm in my own. Only then did I remember again how hungry I was.

They fed me first, and then Rigel when he woke up. We were dressed in the same warm winter clothes as our rescuers—they must have had a supply of extras just for situations like this. I would have appreciated more rest, but frankly, I was quite curious as well. We were ushered into a snow-covered wooden longhouse, and with minimal delay, they started bombarding us with questions.

It turns out they weren't as interested in me as they were in Rigel. I had known him since November had introduced him to me as his guild leader in Alveria, but he had never come across to me as a leader. He was tall, sure, but chubby and clumsy to boot. Timidly, he had responded to their first few questions, but when the locals began asking him about the guild, he broke into tears, burying his face in my bosom, repeatedly yelling at the world to stop. Seeing no way to get him to calm down, they resorted to asking me the same questions instead. Of course, I knew nothing about a guild I had no part in, and so they had adjourned the meeting, likely feeling quite disappointed.

I don't know what you have planned for me in this cold, harsh land. When I pushed off the coast of Alveria three nights ago, I vowed to leave it all behind—that as comfortable as I was there, learning the truth about you was much more important. But now, lying awake in the cold bed of a stranger, realizing that I know little to nothing about even the person sleeping right next to me, I wonder if it really was the right choice.