Salme @ Wolf

Hey. I got real in my head and was trying to mind my own business and not ask you how you were doing unless you wanted to talk, but I’ve realize lately that’s exceptionally silly. The Truth That Burns and then the Beast. How are you doing?

I’ve been. Light, I knew this was going to be harder on Aurelius than he said it would be, but seeing how hard it is on him is … well. First time since I’ve rediscovered my own volition where I’ve realized I can’t do much of anything other than be there.

Still, there are other things that can be done. I was in the library for a long time last night working through … some of my own issues, but I realized we’re sitting on some information about Zosimos that I’d like to share. I know you weren’t ready though.

Also I do want to do those gnosis-work experiments. I do wonder if we tried to make the same thing out of pellucid-burning-flourishing as radiant-tenebrous-liminal if it would turn out the same? And I wonder if one could use a different tripartite weave (say flourishing-burning-tenebrous) to accomplish the same goal. Does the stability simply make it easier or is it necessary?

Oh. I also have a rash thing to tell you about, but I’d like to share it with you directly.

“Rash,” hmm? I await with bated breath…

On the gnosis-work and the library: yes, of course. I suppose I must learn to create those blasted…ah, those very useful folios. The gnosis-work is, perhaps, more interesting to me, but perhaps the two lessons can be combined. Your questions are excellent–still carrying a little Samudra with you, eh?

And as for Aurelius–I understand. The hardest thing, as a yeresh, has always been those times when I could not help; or when the wisest course of action was to let another walk their own path, even when it was painful. I have found, in those cases, that the best thing to do is to find something you can do, even if it’s not directly related to that problem. “Busy hands lighten the heart,” as my old master might have said. Trust his resiliency, sister. He is strong, just as you are, and he will find his way. Hold him gently, and allow him to stumble–simply be there to help him up again.

Wolf you really aren’t beating the dad allegations. “Blasted folios.” I’m happy to combine the two lessons, but I’m also happy to jumpstart the folio collation process with what memories I can access. Archie also reached out to me about tripartite gnosis weaves too, so he may be interested. As for Samudra … I mean, I suppose? We carry parts of everyplace we go with us, don’t we? But Samudra changed me just as I changed it. It was not always my favorite place, but I did try to learn what lessons I could.

I know he will find his way. I know that with absolute certainty. It does not make watching him hurt any more pleasant, though. And I am trying to stay busy, but I always am trying to stay busy.

You didn’t answer my question about how you are doing, Wolf. Or do you too also need time?

Ah, well. If being who I am is a “dad,” then such is what I am, I suppose. ‘Tis my role and my nature, regardless of the name, aye?

And forgive me, I was not attempting to dodge the question–I am quite well! My conversation with our good Narrator helped assuage what concerns I had, and now…it is simply a matter of taking the next step on the road, same as it always has been. I am who I am and I am who I choose to be, I believe, Angels and Truth not withstanding.

It is strangely…exhilarating, here on the Beast. The Worldsong here is deeply different from either Almachadta’s or Samudra’s…it drives. But there is something beneath it, too, something…which I cannot help but feel is somehow connected to Lucja. I shall have to speak with him soon.

Well you could, perhaps, be a bit less suspicious of the technology. Just a bit.

I’ve gotten several interesting lessons from … hm. Some of those who journey alongside us, or exist in this space, but are not here with us. Both a stranger and someone very familiar have entreated me to enjoy us being alive in the here and now. I think yours is the correct lesson to take in that regard.

However, if you do wish to know about how I’ve come to understand this particular aspect of our world I have … extensive, though somewhat contradictory notes. Please feel free to rely on me, too. Jokes about your role as dad aside, you’re my friend and I’m here to help.

Oh. You absolutely should speak with Luĉja. Did you ever get to share Worldsongs with one another? Oh! Speaking of which, I do want to see about refining Methexis, or at least our versions of Methexis, into techne at least for myself (possibly for yourself, if you’ve any interest). I had some success with Caion.

I also perhaps may have some problems I require your wisdom on, but only if you are in an adequate place to do so. They are old problems, I fear, so I ask your patience in that regard.

Hey Wolf, I wanted to. Apologize, I guess? For getting distracted at the end of the Rite and being laser-focused on Jae. We’d been. It was trippy, to realize the friend I’d been talking to lately was the Scorpion Queen. Still, you were magnificent and it seems like everyone was able to care for you.

Still. I felt a little like … I had betrayed an unspoken vow to stand with you always. So. Yeah.

The to-do list grows! Not that I am displeased by that in the slightest. And yes, I do intend to speak to Lucja, there is…something interesting about the song here, and it ties to him in ways I do not fully understand. I cannot quite grasp the full sense of it–it is buried beneath the Worldsong somehow. …I also need to lean on his forging expertise, for I find myself weaponless. Not that I can say I’m particularly upset about that either, oddly. If they were to be lost, what a way to lose them. Though I am curious as to why she targeted mine, there was nothing particularly special about them, save for…ah. Well. Save for their owner, I suppose.

And, as always, the apology is accepted, though as oft seems to be the case, I have not in any way taken offense. I was rather busy remaining conscious, or not, and I cannot say I particularly noticed much of what came after the Rite. Though even if I had, I would not have felt in any way ignored or betrayed–and it is hardly as if you abandoned us on the battlefield. If anything, I feel rather chagrined that I may have “hogged all the glory,” as it were.

Come, let us speak at the next opportunity. This blasted brick is no substitute for speech face-to-face.

We should hang out! I don’t know how much you’ve got to explore Queenstown, but it’s been amazing so far—Bigger than five Courtyards all next to each other, and then some! Zaya showed me the bazaar, and I just got back from the palace. The bazaar I’d recommend without reservation. The palace was. An experience, and not one I’m sure you need.

As for the Rite, I absolutely I don’t think you “hogged all the glory.” That moment was amazing, and it was yours, and you should be proud. Besides, it was clearly a team effort, and Archie certainly had his moment as well.

That said, I (and I am typing this to you, not telling this to you, because I don’t know if I could say this in person without expiring from embarrassment) I was jealous in a way I’ve … never been jealous before? Of you or of anyone, really. It wasn’t the Rite it was Jae’s attention. I guess. I had just figured out who she was, this person I’d become really good friends with, and I wanted her to look at me, see me as her equal. To see me, generally.

So I’ll join you in feeling chagrined. I earned my own moment. Challenged her 1-on-1. I lost, but I expected to. I wanted to, actually. Anyway, I’ll need a new sword myself, so if you find a weaponsmith you particularly like I’d appreciate a recommendation.

Anyway that’s my embarrassing tomestone confession. Hope you’re well. Even if you don’t have the energy to do gnosis experiments, I’d love the chance to just … talk, and to experience the Beast with you.

I have done some wandering, but more, ah…recovering. Hah, you seem to have bounced back from your latest encounter with Herself faster than I did. Though, ah, I suppose I shall not be much help in finding a weaponsmith.

I admit that I am still (rotating) about what seems to have definitively chosen itself as my new weapon. I am not unfamiliar with strange, fated encounters–certainly not at this point–but for such a thing to happen so strongly…it is not unpleasant, but nevertheless somewhat disorienting.

And–really, Salme, truly–you have nothing to be embarrassed about, sister. To wish to be seen, known; to want the attention of one we find compelling, undiluted…that is human. You caused no harm, and found a path to that which you sought which seems to have done well by you. We feel what we feel. There is no shame in that.

Well, actually, you found me the perfect weaponsmith, made more perfect by the fact that having him craft a weapon for me will be more meaningful than anything I could have hoped for otherwise.

Hm. For the disorienting … I have a question for you, though perhaps one best asked in person. But I wonder if … I know I am the only aspect of my Spark. This is the first world I have ever existed in (and isn’t that something! To be newly-awakened and alive!) but just because Jorule does not recognize you doesn’t mean you haven’t existed before. There are innumerable worlds out there you know (I ask because I am speaking to an Angel that reminds me of you. Only in a very sideways way, but their … perceptiveness, and their care? I don’t know). Or perhaps it is simply that Annarr’s memory was best honored by the man most able to appreciate a weapon precisely for itself alone. (And there is much, I think, all of us owe Annarr).

And thank you, Wolf. Hearing that from you is … I knew, intellectually, but hearing it is. Thank you.

…well, perhaps that explains the very strange dreams I’ve been having (amongst other, less-strange but perhaps more-prophetic dreams) about…using my tomestone. Well, that’s somewhat disturbing. One does not exactly know how to feel about the idea that one’s desires and aptitudes are not entirely one’s own. I suppose there’s no harm in it, for now at least, but. Hrm. I wonder…

For the moment, I suppose I shall simply content myself with being grateful to be so well re-armed. Hm.

And…you’re very welcome, Salme. Any time I can ease your mind, please, I wish to do so. One understands very well that what one knows and what one feels are often two different beasts entirely. And that hearing something in the voice of another can, somewhat illogically, make it feel more correct than hearing it in your own voice, inner or otherwise. But, as my master was fond of saying–there are things that logic is no good for.

The thought of you having baffling dreams of actually using your tomestone is very cute, you know. Disorientation aside. And, regardless, you are yourself. Am I any less myself for having learned a couple tricks in the Rite from Aurelius? Or for learning some of the craft of weaving from the Mask? Or from learning to theorize about the world from you? I know it isn’t quite the same, but we are all built of other people who came before, and you are still absolutely yourself.

That said, if it would be helpful, you are welcome to read what I have said to your Angel if you’d like. To see where they are very like you and very not.

Ha. I am not very good at resolving my issues with logic at all. But. I suppose I need not rely only on myself, hm?

Hm. I am tempted, and yet…it is against my nature, and my ethics, to invade that privacy. Even if the person involved is, ah, entangled with myself in ways that I am not entirely sure I understand. That they are not entirely like myself is, oddly, reassuring, however.

As I said, there are things that logic is no good for. That you solve your issues primarily through other means is not a flaw–no more than one might fight with one weapon over another. Sometimes logic is not the appropriate tool for the task. And, as you’ve said, when it is, one may always seek out those who have a greater aptitude with that tool. The goal is not to use a particular tool. The goal is to solve the problem.

I spoke with Awa and I’m doing much better. I think—I apologize for getting so upset. Several different issues conspired to make that revelation feel more … limiting than it actually was.

We’ll talk again soon, but I did want to thank you for … when we were linked, lending me your power in order to hear tuuli’s words. It was such a gift.

I hope you are staying strong, brother, and finding your own way. I love you very much.

You hardly need apologize, Salme. You were distressed, yes, but that is no sin. You harmed none. Your reaction was as it was–as it should have been, for it was authentically yours. You did the right thing–you sought those who ground you, you felt what you needed to feel and processed what you needed to process. I am simply glad that your distress has been eased.

If anything, I feel like I owe you an apology, for my behavior after our shark encounter. I should know very well that you were not–until the very last, at least–in any real danger. But…mm. Knowing and feeling, when one watches a dear companion fall, is not the same thing. And, in that moment after…I know it is not what you meant. But I cannot help but be frightened by the thought that you feel yourself expendable. Your worth is so much more than how you may serve us, even in the Rite. Your logic was not wrong, I just…

Mm. Simply know that I am not angry at you, nor do I think you should feel any need to change your actions or your priorities. I was frightened, and acted out of my fear, and that is not your fault. I must cast out fear–and not take it out on you.

I don’t think you need to apologize either, and there are far, far worse things than someone caring for you so much they’re upset to see you harmed. It also … I understand why my comment bothered you, especially as you’ve been one of the people helping me move away from using myself as an expendable resource. That’s something I have been working on—valuing myself more.

But in the Rite I will prioritize keeping our damage dealers on their feet and that was the calculation in my decision. I thought taking that hit for Aurelius was the best way to keep all of us safe, including myself. I suppose if there’s anything I would ask it’s that you try to trust I’m thinking strategically during the Rite—at least usually.

It’s funny, you know. I had almost this exact conversation with Awa on Samudra, just with the positions reversed. He pointed out we’re all going to get hurt at some point, and I pointed out I didn’t have to like it. It led to a much nastier fight than anything between you and I, so again, even using myself as a benchmark you’ve done nothing that merits an apology.

Thank you, though, for talking about it with me.

Of course, my friend. I apologize for my slow replies–I have been spending quite a bit of time with Xilai in his garden. What a wonder that valley is! Even the greatest forest-wardens of Almachadta would be in envy of his skill. How strange, to find such green-craft in one from such a desolate world. One only wishes he remembered more about it…

We should talk soon. I feel our little interlude of idyll shall soon pass, and I would like to spend what remains of it well–I am not sure how much time we shall have for idle conversation once we return to Queenstown.

I would love to hear about what you’ve learned from Xilai. Part of me has a crazy dream of constructing some sort of greenhouse in Queenstown. Jae says there is a butterfly garden somewhere here that is quite lovely, but I’d love to see Almachadtan plants growing here.

We should talk soon. I have a memory that I recovered that … is not particularly important, but is still one I would value sharing with you. Also I … have many thoughts on our recently-discovered past history, and your continuation of the story.

If you would like, perhaps we could spend some time in my atelier in the library? The Centrelight is a facsimile, but it is a good facsimile, and I do miss the light.

So. I noticed you haven’t be around lately. I presume you’re spending time with Ravhi, and I presume it’s going well. I am overjoyed for you, heart-brother. That said, I did have a fascinating conversation with Zvahr Yhjrn recently, and she strongly suggested I inform your Yazhn of Almachadta’s cycles and the timeline on which they occur. I will make an appointment to do so, unless you have already informed him of these things in between the soulful staring?

I cannot say there has been staring, there has been lovely conversation, thank you, Salme. He is not…he is not my Yazhn, Salme, please. There is…agh. Something happened–no, not what you think–and it is…well, suffice it to say that I will have much to relate when next we speak in person.

That said, he is already aware. There is a “rite of renewal” which occurs at precisely the same interval as the cycles; unfortunately he knows nothing of what it entails. It seems it is the sort of thing were the Yazhn of Yazhns knows what to do when it is needed, but is otherwise not transmitted. Though he did say that the last performer of the rite was enshrined in the hall reserved for such dignitaries…and that it would take an act of their God to wake him to relate the tale. Which suggests that such a thing is possible, if one only knew how. Do with that as you will, heart-sister. I certainly wouldn’t tell Awa that information, goodness only knows what would happen.

(Please do not make me say “wink wink” for you to get the gist, there…)

Well he’s not going to be your Yazhn with that attitude!

But, more seriously, I’m here to listen to whatever happened. Did you try methexis with him? Oh you can just tell me later.

Oh dear me, brother Wolf, are you trying to use my impulsive and nosy nature to get me to activate Awa to possibly commit crimes against the religion of Mu? I mean, sure I’ll mention it to my beloved bluejay. Any advice on playing god or is Awa’s natural … nature adequate do you think?

Also you were definitely staring when we met him. I’m glad he’s a good conversationalist as well though.

Salme! I am shocked–shocked to the core of me–that you think I might be telling you to commit blasphemy. We must be respectful to their beliefs, especially given the fact that speaking in Alethic seems to be equivalent to speaking in the same tone and manner as the God of Mu.

…though that does raise a question, for me. We are very much aware of an entity who speaks exclusively in Alethic, and has…seemingly divine, or quasi-divine, capacities. And “Glory” is, indeed, a synonym for “Radiance” in some ways…

While we’re at it…someone might want to ask the archivists here about Zosimos.

Getting dicked down (metaphysically or literally, I don’t need details) sure makes you ornery.

That is an interesting note. I wonder … Aury said that Annarr heard the voice of … not god, I can’t remember the exact term he used, but something, when he learned the truth that burns. I wonder if that was also in Alethic. I’ll ask him (I’d make a public thread, but since we’re passing out Tomestones on Mu I don’t want to just have that hanging out there as the first thing we see). I wonder if The Glory can be communicated with in order to ask if it’s them.

Ah. Good call on Zosimos. I’m going back to speak with Zvahr Yhjrn at some point—I want to see the earliest records. I’ll ask then.

Alas, no luck on the thing with Aury and Annarr hearing the truth that burns or on finding any record of Zosimos, though the second is certainly data, even if it’s unsatisfying data. I don’t know if you’ve seen the updates on the Zosimos thread.

I did have a question. How much are you willing to trust Yazhn Ravhi? I’ve been watching myself carefully around him, more or less, but I’m not sure how necessary that is. Aury and I ran into him in the Gallery. He seemed—like he’s carrying something extremely heavy.

I…see no reason not to trust him? He is indeed carrying a heavy burden, and while I see some of the reasons–and suspect others–I do not have a “full inventory” of what weighs on him. I would be hesitant to add to that burden, but otherwise…

…his intent is pure and his will is strong. I think he was close to giving up hope–and I do not know why–but our interactions seem to be rekindling that flame. I suspect there is something that was given to him when he was awoken–some knowledge, some duty–that burdens him much like the weight of the Mask once wore on you. I have tried not to pry, but…I think the time is coming when I will have no choice but to ask. I am seeing him this evening, to show him the Library. Perhaps I will ask then.

I think he perhaps needs someone to pry. I think … you have very good instincts for when to speak and when to remain silent, and if your instincts are telling you to ask then you should ask. He might not be willing to tell, but I think the asking will matter very much.

And, as much as I tease about the romantic nature of your interest in one another, I can think of no one better to help someone keep the embers of one’s heart alive.

I believe in you. And thank you for sharing your thoughts on him. I think I might like to speak with him myself, once I’ve gathered my own thoughts. I have several questions that I am told are Yazhn questions.

Also, you’re welcome to take him into my atelier if you would like. The sun in your garden is magnificent, but also the Centrelight in the atelier is its own wonder, I think. I hope you have a good time.

I left out an interesting piece of crystal for you—it’s the triad of radiant + tenebrous + liminal that we’ve theorized about. There’s a whole room full of the stuff. I’m still waiting for Caion on tell me I transliterated it right, but I think it’s called “amphilyke.”

Tell me if it seems familiar to you at all.

Well. That answers a question. It is the exact same kind of crystal that the Tree in the Garden is made of. A whole room of it? You’ll have to take me there, then. Anything that helps me understand the Garden and what it contains.

I have theorized that I did not create that room–that it was somehow found, a chunk of the World-That-Was pulled out of the void…somehow. I’m now increasingly sure that my conjecture is correct.

I think the Garden very much could be something of the unsundered world, though what do you make of the space that so clearly echoes Shijin and his beloved?

I also think … I don’t know that I created the atelier. It is almost a perfect model of a space that I grew up in. It was a thing I … feel like I asked for, but didn’t make? And not to always bring it to memory, but yours especially touches on the World-That-Was. I think the room might be more real than the atelier or the kitchen? I’ve been meaning to ask what the Worldsong sounds like in each place.

As for … hm. I know we had talked about collaborating to try to speak with the corpse-sun, but now that we’ve seen the heart I don’t … I’ll be honest, Wolf, I don’t know that I can. Or rather, I think part of me is caught in the exact same moment of Almachadta’s undoing. Not all of me, but enough that I’m not sure I could stand there and not get trapped.

I don’t really know what to do with that. I know if you were with me I would be safe, but.

I still think there might be something there but I don’t know what. I don’t know if you have any thoughts?

Hmm. I do not know if the entire Garden is of the World-That-Was, but…the Tree which anchors it, perhaps? I do not know. Agh, there is so much I do not know.

As for the Heart…I am not so different, I think, than you. It is always on my mind–the fate that awaits our people if we cannot change the path we are currently on. I, of course, do not have the transmitted memories of it happening–but I too, return to that thought, over and over. How could I not?

And it is for that reason that I think you do yourself too little credit. It is tempting, always, to wallow in our pain, in our misfortune. It is not even a thing of will–suffering can be a thing so intense and gripping that it is hard to even envision a world outside of it. Yet–I have watched you face your pain. I have watched you face your fears. I have watched you decide to live, and to love, even in the shadow of suffering and death.

I think, perhaps, that may be why we are able do what we had thought to do. You know what it is like, to live in the shadow of such a moment. And you know how to summon the strength to walk on. To live, selfishly; to live, for those who love you; to live, for those who may yet come after.

Awa said that, perhaps, we need to teach that being how to accept its death. Perhaps, instead, it must be taught how to live again. I do not know. But I know…that we should try. To learn its story. To ease its pain. To try and take the next step forward.

I mean I wouldn’t be surprised if someone Shijin was there (I’m not sure I’m capable of being surprised at this point) but I think the tree is … deeply significant, though in what way I’m not sure. I feel the same frustration about not knowing, if it helps. I wanted to punch The Glory last time it said “It would take a miracle” to me, and that’s not productive or mature or kind to it.

As for the rest I—you’re right. Of course you are. Even if part of myself is caught in that moment, even if it can sometimes feel overwhelming, I’m alive now and I have the volition to act. It doesn’t.

I think Awa may be right. I think you may be right. I think there could be another answer we can’t yet see. I think, regardless, what we might need to do is, as you said, see if we can learn any of the story beyond the moment it’s in, and see, if it could have a will, where it would want to go? The why might be beyond us, but maybe a larger “what” is possible.

There was love there, Wolf. Whatever else was happening, there was an immense amount of love.

Yes, there was. Though one does not assume that love and good intent mean…hm. How do I want to put this?

Love is a miracle, and I meant that earnestly when I said it to you–and still do. But love is not…always an unalloyed good. Love can smother. Love can, betimes, kill. I think we should be careful about the assumptions we make, based on those feelings. I am not saying you are wrong, either. But…

I think of how our story started. I think of how, if we had believed the Architect unquestioningly, we would have seen the Omniclast as our enemy. How we could have so easily seen the Ancient Ones on Samudra as our enemy, how we could have seen the Mother on the Beast as our enemy. All I am speaking is…caution. So very little on this journey has been what it seemed. Including us.

Let us go into this encounter with our eyes wide open–to see it for what it is, both good and ill, subtle and gross. What it is, and what it may want, matters–but I suspect it is not the only side of the tale.

Oh, I agree. Love is the sharpest blade there is. In all the memories within the Mask, the one I find most revolting was an act of great love.

I also, hopefully not to sound too cynical, think miracles can have a body count.

So I agree. I don’t think knowing what it loved or what it would want if it could means we ought to embrace either of things. I think … those are the questions I would most want answered in order to begin to understand it, I suppose.

Aye. At the end of the day, it is core to what happened to our worlds, and must be understood in order to be able to grapple most effectively with that fate. But what happens next–what solution might be found, and what shape the future should take–is ours to determine. For whatever reason…the World-That-Was failed. It’s up to us to forge a better path.

If I may ask–though I do not wish to pry or bring up bad memories–what is the most revolting memory, to you?

Ah. Yeah. And it’s the forging-a-better-path that makes me … anxious.

And you can ask. Wolf, I’m nothing but an archive of memories—bad and good—and remembering is never … hm. It doesn’t bother me, remembering these things. Many things do, but here I am strong.

Anyway.

The Sword-Saints who see the end of all things have a strange task set to them, don’t they? To live, to shine, knowing that they and everything around them will inevitably die. And some of us deal with it better than others. I used to think I had taken it exceptionally well, and then I realized I too had been damaged by the role, but I think—with some empathy for myself, I think despite that I’ve endured it fairly well, and, whatever wound I still carry, it is starting to scar.

Most of us go to our end one way or another. Some of us pass on the Mask before it should be passed on, to avoid standing at the end. Some of us find an early death as the way out, to dodge the responsibility of passing on the Mask. But in the Mask, there’s one man who chose death for both himself and his entire family, and he didn’t give his family a choice.

I haven’t dwelled upon it to much with you, but you know. I know you know. You can feel it in the song of Almachadta itself. Even before Almachadta is ripped apart, even before the fire, the shape the Canker-Galls bend us into is an ugly one. Almachadta has always been death alongside life; violence, along with kindness; the hunter and the hunted, to quote your own song. But the way the Canker-Galls shift everything into something perverse and … uncanny, I think. It’s ugly. We both know.

And this Sword-Saint knew it was coming. Those of us who are last always know. I knew, from the moment I picked up the Mask. I didn’t know when; it was pure intuition, but I knew. And he knew too.

But the thing is, the time hadn’t gotten close, not yet, and I think he knew that as well. But he was scared, and he was—I want to call him “weak,” but I don’t know if that’s true. He was scared, and he loved his family more than anything, and he didn’t want them to have to die in that way, and so he poisoned them all without telling them. The Rite told them, eventually, but it was—you know how the Rite can go, when someone isn’t trained or experienced with it. His children weren’t. His partners weren’t. And the poison he chose was a sweet, easy death, but he still chose for them. It was a great act of love and, yes, also fear. But love. Light, if you live this memory in the Mask, he’s almost overflowing with love.

There are worse things in the Mask, I think. There’s certainly acts of violence that are harder to look at. But for me, I—I’ve been thinking. I don’t have the clearest sense of morals, not compared to some of the others, not compared to you. But one thing I value above all else is choice, and to deny the choice from someone, to end them (because I do think death is an end that holds no promise of living again) because you love them? To commit that act of harm? I don’t know if it’s evil; I don’t know if I believe in evil. I know it’s revolting to me, though.

So when you talk of love and caution me to not get too caught up in it I—do know. I also know that when I have found myself most likely to do things that violate my values, it’s been from love. I … don’t know that I told you this, but in Samudra, I had some conflict with Sininen about his safety, and it led to. Him asking me if I wanted him to change for me, to be something other than what he is—careful, safe, grounded. And the answer was no—of course it was no, it will always be no—and we got past it, but. I remember it.

(And I know that we change and are changed by the people we love too. Aurelius reminded me of this recently, and I think, if I didn’t write that here and now, you’d gently remind me that’s true too. But there’s a difference, I think, between the way we grow and shift and live together, and aggressively reconfiguring the self to be something you aren’t. I’ve done both, extensively, and I … don’t want anyone I love—anyone I even know—to be forced to do the latter).

That’s very long, I suppose, and more than you asked for, but the mood took me.

I shall hardly ever complain about getting to know and understand you better, Salme. What you wish to share, I wish to hear. If I have an objection it is to you saying that you’re “nothing but an archive of memories,” or saying that you do not have the “clearest sense of morals.”

Your ethics are not always mine, but they do not have to be. You are in the process of questioning and clarifying your ethics, but there is no shame in that–that is good, and necessary; I did the same, once upon a time. It was no more comfortable for me than it is for you. If anything, I would say you have a fiercer sense of right and wrong than I do–I am too familiar with the fallibility of people, I think. It is difficult for me to call anything “evil” in the outright–I am not always sure that is to my credit.

That said…goodness. What you describe of that memory is horribly close to what I would call “evil.” A well-meaning evil, but an evil nonetheless. To deny the other the opportunity to grapple with their own fate; to cut short lives that might yet have had good in them, to–as you say–steal that choice…hrm. My blood rises just thinking of it. He might have felt that as love, thought of it as love, but it was a mad and broken kind of love, at best.

It is, I admit, one of the reasons I wish very much that I could have words with Zosimos about his choices. What a terrible burden to inflict on others–others who cannot possibly choose knowingly, before they place it on their shoulders. It drives, also, my anger at whatever force or choices made the worlds become this way–who made such a thing necessary. But…I digress.

I am curious: what about the idea of attempting to forge a better path makes you anxious?

You’re very gentle with me, Wolf. Gentler than I think anyone ever has been before. I didn’t mean to sound self-deprecating; I meant “nothing but an archive of memories” in that I have a lot of them; if I were Jae, I might’ve said “I’m up to my tits in memories” or something. I do know I’m a person too. Even at my worst, I knew I was a person, even if I didn’t want to be. As for “clearest sense of morals” I … well. I’ll leave that for when I answer the question you asked me at the end of this.

I think it’s worth being clear about something, though, and I hope this doesn’t sound harsh, but: the Mask was my choice. I did not defeat the Sword-Saint in a duel when I was eighteen by accident. I wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything, and I reached for it with both hands and clear eyes. I would make the same choice again. I would always make that choice. The toll it took on me was steep, yes, but it is a toll I accept. It is my burden and it is my honor.

If it could have been otherwise that would have been lovely, but the options seem circumscribed by the reality we live in. Whatever Zosimos’ intent, we are trapped with an imperfect solution to a horrific problem—but it is a solution, and we Mask-bearers choose it as knowingly as anyone can. Badri made sure I knew it would be a heavy burden; he did not hide that it had almost broken him. Even if I had been told about the cycles before taking up the Mask, nothing would compare to living them. It is not a choice that you can make with full knowledge, but what choice is?

I suppose my point is that I had more of a choice than nearly anyone else among us. You were born with your gifts; the path of a yeresh may not be as cruel, but it was almost demanded of you, was it not? Luĉja was built for a specific purpose they might never fulfill; Aurelius was born only at the beginning of the end and has never known anything but the weight of the end of all things. Archie and Awoken might have had more choice in their lives, though I’m not sure with Awa, but (and you’ve said this yourself) I picked the Mask and the role of the Sword-Saint.

I again apologize, and I know that isn’t quite what you meant, but. It matters very much that it be known that the only thing I regret about my time as the Sword-Saint is that I didn’t try to find a way out of the cycles, regardless of the lessons the Mask taught. And I would always, always choose this path, even if I was absolutely certain that it could only end in my early death.

And I think that, in some ways, leads back to my statement about my relationship with morality, really. You say I have a fierce sense of right and wrong, but I don’t think that’s I do. I have a fierce sense of things I find repugnant, or beautiful. I know what feels good and I know what feels bad; I know what makes my heart sing and what makes it recoil. But I don’t think, would never presume to think, that those feelings serve as meaningful indicators of “right” or “wrong,” even presuming “right” or “wrong” can be said to exist.

And that’s why I feel such anxiety regarding forging a better path: Better for whom? Better in what way? Obviously one where we aren’t all doomed to die over and over again, but what’s the price for such world? Who will reap the benefits? Who will pay the price? What will we lose? I don’t feel equipped to make these kinds of decisions, but I know I must, or at least I must be part of the decision-making process, along with you and the others. I am not someone who ever wanted to make these kinds of decisions for others; I struggled with the choice to tell you all about the cycles so long ago, which sometime seems silly now. But.

Choosing to save what can be saved is one thing. Having any hand in the shape of what comes after? That makes me anxious.

Did you ever struggle with this? You said you had to question and clarify your ethics once. How did you?

I do beg your apologies, if I have seemed to demean your strength, or your choice. You are correct that no amount of prior explaining could have truly prepared you–or any potential Saint–for that burden. That is why it makes me angry. It is a thing that does not allow for preparation, for what my own ethics would demand of a “free choice.” You chose it as freely as is possible, yes. You bear that burden with a strength that is beyond…what could be expected of most, if not many people. It may very well have been the best solution that Zosimos could think of.

And yet, that burden harms those who bear it. It cannot be otherwise. I…I have dedicated myself to the reduction of harm and suffering. As much as I admire your strength, I cannot help but abhor that it must have been tested so. I admire that you do not regret your choices. But you know better than I how many Saints have been scarred and broken by that burden. Less than could have been, I am sure, and still…

I do not know if you will understand the anger that rises in me, to hear you say that I have been gentler with you than any before. Not at you. Never at you. But in my eyes, I am not so much gentle with you as…respectful. Giving you the consideration and respect that I feel that all people deserve.

And thus–I do indeed say that you have as strong an ethical sense as I. Am I any different than you? I am driven in turn by what I feel is repugnant, and what I feel is beautiful. Suffering is an ugly thing, to me. To see another mistreated fills me with anger. They are not the sole drivers of my ethics–there are many times that I restrain those emotions because they would drive me to overreact, to cause undue harm in the pursuit of stopping it. But they are necessary nonetheless.

So, I suppose I would say that I questioned and clarified my own ethics in exactly the way that you are now. I interacted with the world, observed it, weighed my judgments between reason and sentiment. I consulted those who I had reason to trust. I made choices…and I made mistakes, and I learned from them. I caused harm and regretted it. If I make good judgments in the present day, they are the result of ten thousand errors, both large and small.

When we make our judgments going forward, about the shape of the world-to-, we shall make errors. We will weigh our options in our heads and our hearts, and we shall strive to do the most good for the most that we can, at the least cost. But there shall be no perfect answer, no certainty of correctness. The most we can do is try, and strive for the best of all possible futures, and leave the best world we can for those who come after. And they, in turn, shall make their own choices, and change the world as they see fit, to suit their own needs.

I do not know why we have been given this power, this opportunity to effect this change. But given that we, and seemingly only we, have his power…we have no choice but to use our own judgment, as best we can. Because, in a very real way, to refrain is also a choice–we will be responsible either way.

As my teacher once told me…when the time comes to leap in faith, it matters not whether you have your eyes open or closed or scream all the way down. You leap, and let the rest take care of itself.

I … on rereading, that wasn’t what you were doing at all. I didn’t even think that’s what you were doing then. I didn’t read it as demeaning, just. It’s very important to me that the choice I made was respected for the choice it was? Maybe I’m a bit defensive; I don’t wish to be an object of pity. But also I … I’ve been thinking a bit, about faith and gods. I’ve never had much use for either, I didn’t think, but with some reflection I’ve realized … the memories and stories of Almachadta, the people themselves, are maybe not what I worship but what I chose to devote my life to serving. For all its sorrow, the Mask gave me that joy, and it’s important to me that we hold both.

I don’t disagree, though, about the cost of the Mask itself. I am very invested in being the last Sword-Saint. Or if there is ever another, I would like the sorrow and joy of carrying forth memories and stories to not live in the shadow of these cycles of destruction. They will always be a part of our past and I think they must be remembered, but I want them to be part of the past.

I do think, regarding gentleness, you are very careful. I can see you trying to undo some of the harms I’ve experienced, rebuild my confidence where it’s been broken down (or never existed). It isn’t that no one has ever cared before—Badri cared very, very much—it’s just the intentionality is very specific to you, I think, and it feels gentle to me. It’s nice. I value it very much.

In terms of ethics, I think it’s simply that … hm. Something I’ve been struggling with is that I’m someone who would want to know the truth at all costs. It is one of the reasons I ended up the Sword-Saint in the first place. But I don’t think “knowing the truth” is necessarily a path to happiness; oftentimes, it’s precisely the opposite. But I would always choose to know. That isn’t true of everyone, though. It isn’t even true of every one of us. The obvious solution is to give someone the choice, but even in letting someone know there is a truth, you might create the expectation that they must look.

And I think perhaps I’m particularly caught on this is … as the Sword-Saint that was a choice I made for people. I kept the truth of the end of all things to myself. And it was an informed choice—there are examples, in the Mask, of when the secret was not kept, and the panic and the attempt to change things and then the greater panic when such attempts failed—that caused suffering. People were not kind. But I think of what I would want, and the enormous betrayal I would feel if I had not known the end was coming, had been confronted with it, and then had found that, say, Badri had known and hadn’t told me.

It isn’t guilt for the choices I made; I had good reasons for making them. But it’s a conflict I can’t quite resolve for myself.

I have at the very least grown past feeling like my instincts are inherently flawed. They’re human, just as anyone’s are, but knowing the things I value are not what everyone else values, knowing that people after us will have to live with my choices—it does make me anxious. But anxiety itself is not evil, not really. The solution is, I think, to find my own path towards clarity, and to try to see the merits of all possible solutions—not just the one that feels best to me (though that is also information and … I am trying not to discard it).

I might need to bounce some thoughts off you and the others on that journey, but that has always been the case. And regardless of what awaits us, I’m forever grateful that I know I won’t be alone.

Thank you.

(It of course, goes without saying, that I’ve never been afraid to leap when it was only myself at risk. It’s the good of others that I am always concerned with. But, I suppose, I can’t let myself been paralyzed by fear. I’ve. Been there before. I won’t let myself end up there again).

I understand, I think. Rest assured, that I never pity you–I would not dishonor you so. It is more that…I remember (now) the ferocious young girl who taught me a much-needed lesson about the costs of arrogance. And I remember, also, the much more somber young woman who I awoke to meet in the Sanctuary. I can see the way that you were shaped by that burden, that pain.

And yet…as you point out, it also brought you joy, and purpose. You are, in many ways, still that ferocious girl–and the ways in which that weight tempered that ferocity are sometimes to the good. We are all products of the roads we have walked. I hesitate to say that suffering is necessary, but I have oft wrestled with the ways in which it often seems to be necessary for growth. In a very real way, I needed to be bitten–and to suffer all the consequences thereof. It is a tension I do not necessarily have resolution for. Perhaps there shouldn’t be a resolution–perhaps the tension itself is the point.

That kind of tension–the anxiety you feel–is, perhaps ironically, part of why I trust your ethics, and consider them to be strong. They are not unquestioned. You do not assume your own correctness. I think you tend to err on the side of restraint, but that is not necessarily an ill thing; when one is playing for such stakes as we are, to be cautious in one’s judgments is a good thing–we cannot be callous with those lives. I simply think it would be an error to be over-cautious as well. Life is resilient; clearly, it has continued on through disaster and horror.

The hardest part, I have found, is to trust the strength of those others. As you say, and have good evidence for, the knowledge of that hard truth, that inevitable suffering, surely did bring out the worst in many. Yet, I am equally sure that there were many who shone in that darkness–who faced that truth with courage, and helped those around them face it as well. But it is not an easy thing, that choice. To decide, to kill those unborn possibilities, and trust that, whatever happens, we shall endure the aftermath.

On the choices you have made: For what it is worth, I would say that, given the information you had at the time, you made the best choice available to you. You had evidence that sharing that truth had not gone well in the past. You could not, at the time, offer them any new hope for the future. You deprived them of that choice–but did so in order that as many as possible could flourish for as long as possible.

Was it a wrongness, a sin? Perhaps. But we are all of us sinners, and none of our hands are clean. I, too, have caused harm to protect flourishing–I have killed, and I have forced. I have overridden the judgment of others with my own. I have not always been correct. That, too, is part of what it is to be a yeresh. To be the one who decides, at times, what to cut. What to burn. All we can do is our best, and to cling tightly to what wisdom we have, and to learn from our failures when they occur.

And now, given power you did not have then, knowledge you did not have then…you are not clinging to the choices you made then. You are doing something different. That, in and of itself, is admirable: to change, to grow, to choose differently, is a difficult thing. You are growing wise, Salme, as every word you write shows. I do not say that lightly.

Would it surprise you to learn that we are not so different in our devotion, you and I? I may swear by the Lady, and by other gods beside, but it is not truly a god that I have given my life to. It is something bigger than that. I once asked my Teacher why she did what she did. Why she served, and why she sacrificed. Why she poured out the power she held for others, and used it only rarely for herself.

She was silent a long moment, looking at the sky. And then she said: “Lands that stretch on forever. Skies one could drown in. The heartbeat of nature, silent yet strong. And amidst it all, a people. Beacons of light and life. Laughter that warms my heart like naught else before. They are my meaning and my purpose. My love.” And that was the whole of her answer.

I did not understand, then. I do now. I think you, too, understand. It is…why it was important to me, before I took on his teaching, to ask of Dyu: Would you walk this path if there was no God? No mandate? If it was just your world, and its people.

God is an idea, which we hold inside us. What we see in God says as much about us as it does about God. It is so terrifyingly easy to place our own words in God’s mouth, to hear in our own thoughts in the voice of God. It is so easy to see a pure vision of perfection, and call it God, and judge all the world against it. But reality is messier, and reality…is all that matters, in the end. The people, the world, their lives, their experiences. You already have the correct touchstone, the correct anchor in your thoughts: that life, those people.

Remember just one thing–you are part of life as well.

I think there are more pleasant paths I might have taken, and I think maybe I would be happier if I had, but I wouldn’t be who I am and. It’s hard to regret that, right? As angry as I sometimes am that, before Badri, when I reached out there never seemed to be anyone reaching back, I—I don’t think that made me a kinder person, or better, but it is part of who I am. So. I take your point about suffering and I think you’re right about the tension. And, for better or for worse, we’ll never rid the world of suffering. People’s needs will always be mismatched. The world might be made kinder, but it will always have its cruelties, even assuming we could agree on kindnesses and cruelties, which I don’t think is a given.

I guess that can be expanded to your larger point about decision-making, can’t it? Whatever choices we make that shape the future—that’s the future, and people will find a way to live with it, just like we’ve found a way to live with it. I do know people can be resilient. I’ve … been inspired by so many people; too many to name. I just also know how much every single thing matters. Sometimes, I get caught on the details. I’m sure this will not surprise you at all.

I don’t have … much intelligent to say about your words on faith or god other than I appreciate your observation and I’m not surprised that our devotion bears a similar shape. I think. I sometimes grate against the idea of “god” as a source of meaning-making because my own view, that it is all a construction we do together, helps to guard against self-justification. And I think … I do fear self-justification, to the point that I begin to mistrust my own ability to judge and decide. I’ve worked past a lot of it, but still. Right now it is easy. Right now there is a simple solution to every question: we have to keep going, and we have to keep trying, because the stakes are enormous. Soon, though, I suspect we’ll encounter more complex questions without easy answers. I want to be prepared for when that time comes, rather than being surprised.

Thank you, again, always, Wolf, for your Counsel.

Here, too, let me offer mine: I know you felt some way hearing Ravhi’s song, and I know you’ve likely worked through much of that feeling on your own. I will restate that I don’t think the songs attached to us tell define us, but aside from that I wanted to offer to sit with you and hold your concerns and your fears and your feelings. I am here for you and I will always be here for you. You can lean on me if you need.