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This part of poetry collection contains fantasy mystic poem about the struggle between dark & white forces

I'm running back. Like a fucking beaten dog, I'm back to you, to the person who threw me away. God, I'm pathetic. So starved for a gentle touch that I can't even see your real face. Or maybe I just don't care. I'm running back to you, to your soft voice, to that bitter aftertaste on my tongue after your sweet words.

In the Mireth universe, countless worlds are bound together by mirrors. They remember every crossing. They certainly remember Dorian Corvell. When Mirrorwalker Dorian accepted a contract from the Great Council, he expected compensation, not complications. Commune with a sacred creature. Follow procedure. Leave. It should have been simple. It was not. Sent to the Lands of the Loteri, Dorian learned that ritual mattered more than authority. Rules existed. Explanations did not. He found himself with the best guide available. The dislike was immediate and one-sided. Elsewhere in the universe, the mirrors began to stir. Old crossings returned. Other Mirrorwalkers quietly vanished. Duty turned personal. Desire interfered. The past refused to stay silent. The mirrors were already watching. __________________________ For my life partner. We shared more than two decades of a wonderful life together. You passed away suddenly, far too soon. You were my best supporter, the inspiration behind my writing, and the love of my life. You will always be the one. This series is for you.