“On the next morning, she thought to have made it up. While she was still fumbling out of sleep, a blurry reality and vague lights around her, she remembered the precise words, and the iron pitcher shocked her fingers. There was something flowing through the walls, but it wasn’t water. Stars, maybe. Definitely something from a dead dream.”

Anne of Maumesnil, Prose from the Path

Hey, earlier these past two weeks, I had to reinstall windows on my computer, rearrange its insides, etc. Up until now, I hadn’t had a chance to test out my A3 scanner, and it turns out… it only produces solid black images now. So, I’m doing tests to see if it’s fixable, else I’ll have to buy a new one to continue the comic. Page 78 is delayed until then, thank you for your patience πŸ™‚