Although Diogo has asked that I stay indoors, I can't help but be drawn to the roof. Every day I drift toward the rooftop terrace, looking out into a city covered in grey ash, the only splash of colour the fires that continue to burn, choking Sanctuary. The ash doesn't rain down daily, only when the wind is high, but often enough to coat our city. Today the flakes land on me and on the terrace, landing like the snowflakes of my childhood. Light and fluffy, but not nearly as innocent ...