The defining moment of my life occurred when I was eight years old and fell from the topmost limb of an oak tree. I remember naught about the incident. They tell me my head struck several branches on the way down. I was insensible for the better part of a sennight, which was a mercy because it allowed the doctor to set my broken arm without my being aware of the agony he inflicted. For the injury to my brain, he did nothing.

Perhaps that was another type of mercy.

I only know that when I finally opened my eyes, the voices were there. They have been with me ever since.

~from the private journal of Pierce Langdon, Viscount Westfall