Fourth Letter to Nysali

Your Grace,
 
I don’t know what exactly you saw in your vision but you DID say that we were all needed to save the world or whatever. All of us.
 
I know that shit happens. It’s not like I thought that just because you saw us saving the world together, we were invincible-
 
No, scratch that. I kinda DID think that. I don’t know when exactly I went from being a sceptic to a believer. But you play a part long enough and it starts to rub off on you, and in the course of defending you to reassure the others and acting certain of your wisdom, I convinced myself. Or maybe… I felt some affection for these dreamers and weirdos. Believing that we were protected by destiny made it okay to lower my guard a bit, have some fun. Get attached.
 
Although I guess I can’t blame you for this fucking tattoo. I was very high.
 
“We can’t just ignore the flare!” I said. “Someone might need our help! Also, hi, I’m Davynn from Whitfeld apparently!” Who AM I anymore? I mean, yeah, you don’t kick people when they’re down, but unless they’re getting kicked RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, who cares? There are too many people in the world to go around trying to save them one by one. I know this! Keep your mind on the road and your eyes off mystery flares. THAT should be my next tattoo, right under the dragon-skull’ed Corrin jumping over the bonfire… if I flex my pec just right, I can make him move….
 
Not moving much now though, is he, with his mushed head. Worse than the dream. Not sure there was enough left of him for the Cathal Ros to do much of anything, other than make him into a stew. If, that is, everything is connected and that elf dude with the horse is working with the crazy dwarf buggers. And the Ilithids! How did they get into this?
 
Yet WE are the chosen ones, you say. Elemental gnolls, cannibal dwarf cultists, dragon orbs, cursed amulets, butterfly houses, death traps, mind flayers, antlered horses that radiate fire, elves who shoot sunlight… yep, no worries. WE GOT THIS, YOUR GRACE! DON’T YOU WORRY YOUR PRETTY LITTLE HEAD ABOUT US! EVERYTHING’S UNDER CONTROL!!
 
I was NOT very nice to Annie. She probably figured out that I was messing with her before the end, re: the sex friends thing, and I never got a chance to bone her to prove that I wasn’t. Even though I was. But SHE didn’t need to know that! Don’t know what pisses me off more, that she died thinking I was some cruel asshole, or that it bothers me that she did. What does it matter. This “hero of prophecy” bullshit has gotten out of hand, infected my thinking. I’m not even a good person. I am, at my absolute best, not as bad as some people. That’s it.
 
She tried so fucking hard though. For what? So she could watch her best friend get his face caved in while she held his hand?
 
And that little weirdo. Infinite energy and ideas. Never did figure out if he was an idiot or a genius, always moving too fast for me to get a read on him. All tuckered out now.
 
Dead like everyone else.
 
So thanks for that, your Grace. What I really needed was to start caring about people again JUST IN TIME to fail at protecting them. You read my mind.
 
I probably won’t be writing to you again. Doubt you’ll ever read any of these letters. But just so we’re clear, from this point on our paths align only because my friends deserve vengeance. Whatever the Seven Sisters have told you is wrong. Your plans are flawed. I say this without rancour. I don’t blame you. It’s easy to be lead astray. But I won’t be again. No more daydreaming. Sticking to things that make sense from here on, and your way does not.
 
Respectfully,
 
Xylund