4th of Frostbreak, 9999 PR

[Session 15]

by Xhoya Maeri'dwyn

Safe Descent Brother,
 
Thank you for your eyes over the night. Full minds may have made rest fragmented for many of us, but rest was indeed found by tired bodies. We returned to the school at the request of Lux so that we could look further into bloodline magic. It is good of her to ask such questions; we do not know what we can become, unless we know what we are, correct?
 
Jubilee also stayed safe beneath your attentive gaze, and she was smart enough to prepare the doors and cameras as well. The others invited her to join our caravan; I said nothing. I worry, Little Bug, that we will be found out quickly. The stage we had set and all of the roles we had practiced were for nothing. Personas were discarded and real names called for aid. An actual introduction to Jubilee. If this is all it takes, if this is how easily truths are exposed… Sanctuary Inc will splinter like dead trees.
 
Am I broken, Brother? I keep feeling like every choice I make is… wrong. I am told to be cautious, but every hand is extended in generosity to strangers. I am told to keep secrets, but every truth is spoken around me. I am told to be another person, but find myself alone when the performance begins.
 
I felt normalcy for the first time in weeks. We - Lux and myself - toured a sealed wing of the school, and found ourselves suddenly deep in lessons. I don’t really even remember how or when the Queen appeared, just how grateful I was to encounter something I could understand. I ran a fine nib to smooth parchment, and while I listened to Highness speak, I did not notice the wariness in my legs. I stopped questioning if the blood under my nails was my own or someone else's. I stopped pondering whether the next room we explored had more men looking to hurt us. Because this - these notes and these teachings - I *knew* them to be true. For a fleeting moment, I had something to ground me.
 
We found many useful things: pre-drawn circles for basic magics, a ‘suppression system’ to wrangle unruly spells (I will look further into this!), new theories of magic put into practice with small displays of purpose. It was remarkable, and I could have stayed here for days. Part of me… does want to stay here. The schools have been released since the threat of the Deremitru - surely there is at least one empty dormitory?
 
We… also found some terrible things.
 
The lower levels held things that spoke of deep nets of conspiracy that I am not ready to unwind. Crates branded with that horrible flower they have chosen, and a box that Kiíellièn now weeps over, singing a strange song in a language I can pull words from but not speak. It contained a heart, made of crystal and wreathed in fire. It was an object I was certain was tainted with something foul, as attempts to interact with it went literally up in flames. And so… Kiíellièn touched it. I scolded her, as if she were a child dipping her hand into a pot of boiling water.
 
It was stupid. And she was proud of her actions.
 
It was not a cursed sculpture, but the petrified remains of her ancestors, damned to burn in flames, confined to a prison made of his own skin. I was wrong, but I should not have been. She left with a small blister. Is she blessed, or is she just lucky? Would cousin have lost his hand? Would he, also, have been proud of his actions?
 
Am I broken, Brother? Are people meant to willingly offer themselves for anything or anyone? What makes someone more worthy? How many fingers is a stranger worth? A friend? A family member? Am I just not capable of such a feeling? Is there too much fear within me, and this is why I have such thoughts? Is it wrong for me to think that no one should feel expendable? So many things I knew to be fact are melting like the winter ice. With the exception of my studies… I do not know if anything I have learned about our world is true anymore. And if facts are no longer facts… then I have no direction.
 
We remain in this room, taking a moment of time to regain ourselves and process all we have found. The flames of the lost Keeper were cooled with the complicated circle, and now the group of them stay together. Comfort in the familiar. I understand. They speak a name, or maybe a word. Zah’kar. Maybe this is who the lost Keeper is, or someone they knew. I rest with my back against one of the many boxes filled with strange metals they kept in this basement. We have much research to do, and now, we also have several names.
 
I hope time and encounters stay in our favor, so that less blood is shed next time. I may hold tight tonight. I am sorry if I squeeze too hard.
 
To Gentle Mornings,
 
Xhoya

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