[This letter is left unsigned and left in the League of Purple office by a very confused courier.]
O Faith, stern-hearted sentinel in steel,
Your gaze cuts cleaner than a dagger's thrust
A glance, not warm, but colder than I feel
When waking from a dream of you to dust.
Your flaxen hair- no banner flown for me,
Your eyes, twin winters locked in glacial spite.
Yet still I burn, a fool no frost can free,
A moth who circles ever round your light.
Absolve me, Faith, if love's a kind of sin
A trespass born of longing, not deceit.
I'd bear the weight, if you'd but let me in,
To burn, and call the punishment complete.
Then grant me faith, if not your hand or smile—
That hearts can shift like dunes upon the wind.
An equally confused Faith reads the letter before placing it back, face down, among the many letters and documents in the League of Purple office, to be lost in the piles of papers.