Rhys leaned over, unlocking part of his desk, and pulling forth a stone basin carved with runes that he set on the table.

"When I was a young man," he began, and took his wand out, setting the tip to his temple. "I had a similar problem to your own, though with different circumstance. I had not seriously hurt anyone I cared for, but I did have a dichotomous nature I was aware of, frightened of, and tried to suppress. It worked, for a time."

He fell silent for a moment, closing his eyes, and then pulled his wand from his temple. A long, silver, shimmering strand clung to the tip, stretching longer and longer, until it finally pulled free of his head. He set it into the bowl, where it swirled through the water, like living moonlight on the sea.

"But bricking things up, tying them down, trying to restrain certain parts of one's nature utterly has consequences. Eventually things ... crack."

He pushed the bowl toward Kurloz. "Look inside. And remember that nothing you will see therein can hurt you, it is only my memory."