(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

For the crown of our life as it closes
Is darkness, the fruit thereof dust;
No thorns go as deep as a rose's,
And love is more cruel than lust.
Time turns the old days to derision,
Our loves into corpses or wives;
And marriage and death and division
Make barren our lives.
And pale from the past we draw nigh thee,
And satiate with comfortless hours;
And we know thee, how all men belie thee,
And we gather the fruit of thy flowers;
The passion that slays and recovers,
The pangs and the kisses that rain
On the lips and the limbs of thy lovers,
Our Lady of Pain.
~
Maze Entry 8
I found a piece of gar-bar root stuck in the bottom of my pack. Picked off the
lint. It was the most delicious thing I've ever eaten.
Regeneration too slow. I am running out of kidneys.
~
Maze Entry 9
Found a portal framed by an arch. I walked through it, but all it did was
transport me to another part of the maze.
Dost thou dream, in a respite of slumber,
In a lull of the fires of thy life,
Of the days without name, without number,
When thy will stung the world into strife;
When, a goddess, the pulse of thy passion
Smote kings as they revelled in Rome;
And they hailed thee re-risen, O Thalassian,
858