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“Magdalena, Maria Emmanuel, Bettina, Franziska, Ilke, Hildegard, Walburga; my predecessors and rivals and sisters. Every single one of them had married Der Erlkönig. Every single one of them had given up her life. Had they known the true cost of their sacrifice? Had I? They had long since faded away to dust, but something of their spirits lingered, the seams of their threadbare gowns holding in the last remnants of their souls. Their ghosts surrounded me now, and I could hear the whispers of their voices across time, beckoning, pleading, calling. Join us. Join us. But one voice was absent. The nameless, brave maiden. She lived, I thought. She walked out of the Underground, and lived.”

Quote by S. Jae-Jones

Book:Wintersong
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Wintersong

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S. Jae-Jones

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“I suppose I had not been particularly subtle. For the first time, I had taken care with my appearance; after the encounter by the Underground lake, I had forced Twig and Thistle to take me to the tailor to stitch me a new gown. To stitch me some armor. I had had the tailor modify a gown made of a beautiful cream and gold silk taffeta. It was fashioned like a chemise, the skirt gathered beneath what little bosom I had before flowing out behind me in a train. The entire construction was held together by diaphanous straps at my shoulders, leaving my arms bare. Diamonds were craftily sewn into the bodice- hundreds, thousands, a myriad- twinkling like stars in a night sky. Twig and Thistle arranged my hair into a coronet of braids about my head, fitted with more little diamonds that sparkled brightly against my dark locks.”

DiamondsGownHairstyleElisabeth Vogler
Book:Wintersong
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“I missed him. I missed our conversations by the fire, when he had read aloud from the writings of Erasmus and Kepler and Copernicus, when I had set aside my self-consciousness and performed for him the works of occasional poetry I had learned. I missed our childish games of Truth or Forfeit, his hand tricks and jests. I missed working with him on our Wedding Night Sonata, but most of all I missed his smile, his mismatched eyes, and those long, elegant fingers of his that worked both music and magic.”

Goblin KingElisabeth Vogler
Book:Wintersong
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“At last I came upon the hedge maze. Far from the warm circles of light cast by torch and lamp, the leaves and twigs here were wedged in a silver lacework of starlight and shadow. The entrance was framed by two large trees, their branches still bare of any new growth. In the darkness, they seemed less like garden posts marking the way into the labyrinth than two silent sentinels guarding the doorway to the underworld. Shapes writhed in the shadows beyond the archway of bramble and vine, both inviting and intimidating. Yet I was not frightened. The hedge maze smelled like the forest outside the inn, a deep green scent of growth and decay, where life and death were intermingled. A familiar scent. A welcoming scent. The scent of home. Removing my mask, I crossed the threshold, letting darkness swallow me whole. There were no torches or candles lit upon the paths, and neither moonlight nor starlight penetrated the dense bramble. Yet my footing along these paths was sure, every part of me attuned to the wildness around me. Unlike the maze of Schönbrunn Palace, a meticulously manicured and man-made construction, this labyrinth breathed. Nature creeped in along the edges, reclaiming groomed, orderly, and civilized corridors into a twisting tangle of tunnels and tracks, weeds and wildflowers. Paths grew vague, roots unruly, branches untamed. Somewhere deep in the labyrinth, I could hear the giggles and gasps of illicit encounters in the shrubbery. I was careful of my step, lest I trip over a pair of trysting lovers, but when I came upon no one else, I let myself fall into a meditative state of mind. I wandered the recursive spirals of the hedge maze, turn after turn after turn, feeling a measure of calm for the first time in a long time.”

NatureElisabeth VoglerHedge Maze
Book:Shadowsong
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“Mein Herr? For a brief moment, those blue-white eyes regain some color, the only color in this gray world. Blue and green, like the gems on the ring about his finger. Mismatched eyes. Human eyes. The eyes of my immortal beloved. Elisabeth, he says, and his lips move painfully around a mouth full of sharpened teeth, like the fangs of some horrifying beast. Despite the fear knifing my veins, my heart grows soft with pity. With tenderness. I reach for my Goblin King, longing to touch him, to hold his face in my hands the way I had done when I was his bride. Mein Herr. My hands lift to stroke his cheek, but he shakes his head, batting my fingers away. I am not he, he says, and an ominous growl laces his words as his eyes return to that eerie blue-white. He that you love is gone. Then who are you? I ask. His nostrils flare and shadows deepen around us, giving shape to the world. He swirls a cloak about him as a dark forest comes into view, growing from the mist. I am the Lord of Mischief and the Ruler Underground. His lips stretch thin over that dangerous mouth in a leering smile. I am death and doom and Der Erlkönig. No! I cry, reading for him again. No, you are he that I love, a king with music in his soul and a prayer in his heart. You are a scholar, a philosopher, and my own austere young man. Is that so? The corrupted Goblin King runs a tongue over his gleaming teeth, those pale eyes devouring me as though I were a sumptuous treat to be savored. Then prove it. Call him by name. A jolt sings through me- guilt and fear and desire altogether. His name, a name, the only link my austere young man has to the world above, the one thing he could not give me. Der Erlkönig throws his head back in a laugh. You do not even know your beloved's name, maiden? How can you possibly call it love when you walked away, when you abandoned him and all that he fought for? I shall find it, I say fiercely. I shall call him by name and bring him home. Malice lights those otherworldly eyes, and despite the monstrous markings and horns and fangs and fur that claim the Goblin King's comely form, he turns seductive, sly. Come, brave maiden, he purrs. Come, join me and be my bride once more, for it was not your austere young man who showed you the dark delights of the Underground and the flesh. It was I.”

Goblin KingElisabeth Vogler
Book:Shadowsong
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“Sometimes, I might be walking through Slough and think ‘This place is boring.’ But it’s not Slough that’s boring. The sense of boredom is in me. Dismissing things because they’re not interesting is a slippery slope because it leads to dismissing almost everything.”

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“I understood these things intellectually, the way I understand that the world is round or that gravity is a universal force. But it took me a long time to truly grasp what Dr. Summer had told me many times before: "To survive a violent childhood, you created aspects of your consciousness that held information about the violence away from you. That's why you remember it as if it happened to someone else. You have many ways of being you.”

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Book:The Sum of My Parts: A Survivor's Story of Dissociative Identity Disorder
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“When a personality is created out of a trauma situation, the personality can watch and learn by looking and hearing out of your eyes and ears. The personality doesn't have to be the one in charge of the body to know what is going on. If the personality is created while you are of a very young age that personality can remain at that age, even though you are growing and maturing. A personality can also be hidden within the memory that created them and they don't realize time has moved on.”

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Book:Who Am I? Dissociative Identity Disorder Survivor
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