Dear Brother,
I am finding that Paegor’s secrets are rivaled only by their aggression.
We followed a paved road wide enough for a whole colony of Blackback’s, leading to a city hidden from the Sculptors eyes and buildings taller than anything I’ve seen in the Veil. The residents are a broken reflection of us, and there was a part of me that begged to ask if any of them had seen my clutch. But… for every shadow-skinned folk, there were two men dressed as Jaxion was. I couldn’t risk it - I pulled my mask up higher and climbed back into the floating car.
This city does seem to enjoy the letter B. It is very large and on most buildings. I wonder what it stands for? Books? Bubbles? Maybe it stands for Brother? :)
Our next stop was very dusty and just as strange. Much smaller than the other city we went through, we did find a place to stretch our legs and maybe stay the night. The woman was nameless - not by choice. She was a victim of the loop knot that is fae language, accidentally swindled of it. I have sympathy for her, but I was honest. The name is long gone, likely traded a dozen times over by now.
Jaxion left without word and returned hours later, washed out like old photographs. He said it was something to help with the rust? That he was gifted a special wax that kept it away and also dulled his lustre. The nameless one - Kiíellièn has started calling her Petunia - said she is familiar enough with the mines nearby to draw a map of it. And so, she did. It is the strangest thing, Brother, how perfectly they align with your work. I would say you have an admirer, if I did not think these creators had ill intention.
Now, unease has overcome the need for comfort. We have learned that the first guest here did not leave with a pulse, and so we are leaving before the sol sets. Kiíellièn says she has a place for us to sleep safely, but she says and has many unusual things. I do not know what to expect anymore.
I will write again after we have had a chance to rest our eyes.
With Love,
Xhoya