Despair, Desire's sister and twin, is queen of her own bleak
bourne. It is said that scattered through Despair's domain are a
multitude of tiny windows, hanging in the void. Each window looks
out on a different scene, being, in our world, a mirror.

Sometimes you will look into a mirror and feel the eyes of Despair
upon you, feel her hook catch and snag upon your heart.

    Her skin is cold, and clammy; her eyes are the colour of sky, on the
grey, wet days that leach the world of colour and meaning; her voice
is little more than a whisper, and while she has no odour, her
 shadow smells musky and pungent, like the skin of a snake.

    Many years gone, a sect in what is now afghanistan declared her a
goddess and proclaimed all empty rooms her sacred places. The
sect, whose members called themselves the unforgiven, persisted
 for two years, until its last adherent finally killed himself, having
 survived the other members by almost seven months.

    Despair says little, and is patient.