Ravhi @ Wolf

I am afraid that I will not have the facility with this tool that I have with ink on the page, but–

That I would still be able to write to you, and have you write back, even should worlds separate us. Truly you carry marvels with you wherever you go.

But you were, yourself, the greatest of marvels. I caught myself reflecting to Qarina today– we spoke, at length, before you left the City. I think it helped both of us, a great deal– I am not the same man as I was before I saw you across the brazier in the Temple. I am, I think, much the better for it. No matter what happens, that will be true until the God’s Day.

I hope that you are well; I hope that you have found shade and comfort in wherever your travels have taken you.

Right glad I am for these strange tomes! And how strange, that I can still hear your voice, even in these static words. …would that I was hearing your voice in my ears, but…I must cast out regret.

I struggle not to say that you do me too much honor, but…then I think of thel ook Salme would give me (and that you would give me) if I said such a thing, and it is easier to resist the urge. I will say only, then, that I am glad to have been such a thing for you. It was my hope, honestly–that, when I finally met you face to face, I could be of some aid.

It has been a…strange ‘homecoming’ to the Void. As I expected, our travel to Mu has caused this place to expand, but not precisely in the way that was expected. Less…radiant? More…tenebrous. There have also been new arrivals, of a sort. A dog, a cat, and a hummingbird. They are both exactly what they seem, and much, much more. Though they do not precisely seem to be in harmony…

Did I tell you that we hear strange songs, from many of the people (and places!) that we meet? Songs that only we can hear–though, interestingly, Dyu can hear them too. They often speak to the truth of the places and people we meet. It is fascinating, but sometimes almost…too revealing. I do not know if it is correct, that we should be able to see into the souls of others this way.

All this to say…Ravhi, you too, had a song, and it played when we first met you. It was the strangest one we had heard so far–just silence, yet clearly where a song should be. When we arrived here at the Void, one of the beings here–“Ember,” we call it–tried to give voice to a song. It gave voice to that silence…until the Dog (it seems…unwise…not to give it the capitalization) drove off the hummingbird that was also there. And then it gave voice to another song…

I think it was your song? I think it was what was concealed by that silence. I…hope that it was not yours. It was not a comfortable song. Or a pleasant one. …I do not know why I burden you with this. Except to say that…I hope, in even some small way, I have been able to help you move beyond the state where that could be yours in truth. And am baffled, as to why it could have been concealed so. Forgive me. It shook me, I think. To think that it could have been yours. As I said, it was not a comfortable song.

In better news, of a sort, this space between worlds has grown to the point that it should be able to house refugees from our imperiled worlds; we have also discovered that it is safe for those not marked as we are to travel through the gates we have made. The evacuation is beginning.

…it hurts my heart, Ravhi. I am glad that some shall be saved. That not all shall be lost to fire and death. But I had wished…I had wished that we could stop it. I have put such a burden on young Izaak’s shoulders. He was a friend of mine, before we were torn from our worlds, made different. I should have been his Teacher–would have been, had that not occurred. I have not guided him as well as I should have. I have kept my eyes fixed too firmly on the road ahead, and…

…I have not wanted to see the devastation and horror that wracks my world. I tell myself that it was necessary. I fear that it was cowardice.

But…the road stretches on. I cannot undo my mistakes, merely try to correct for the skew they have created going forwards. Still.

Ah, Ravhi. It is a bitter taste, isn’t it? Seeing one’s own flaws. And their consequences.

Forgive me. I am in a grey mood, I think, and you should not be burdened with it. Know, for what it’s worth, that the Garden feels very quiet and empty without you. I think of you always, and hope that you are well.

Wolf,

I would not hide my soul from you. I would not hide any part of myself from you, were the decision mine. I cannot tell you why you heard what you heard, or what it could mean in the grand scheme of things, but if you heard it, and it was mine, consider it yours to hear.

There is fear within me. It’s fear I know you saw, and felt, when we shared… all that we shared. And there is a part of me that dreads the Rite of Renewal that I know is coming. I do not know why.

You know that my charge was to be the shortening of the way. Why was that my charge, and not any other Yazhn of Yazhn’s? Could it, in any world, not have to do with your arrival here? What would it mean to shorten the path to the God’s Day? I… wish that I had answers.

Do not blame yourself for what the world has demanded of you. As a wise man once wrote to me: If you wish for me to judge you, I cannot. If you wish for me to absolve you, I cannot. I would not want to watch my City suffer, it would tear me at the root. But, from all accounts, you and yours have found a hope that your planes have never known, before. Now trust those you’ve taught and met along the way; you should not carry that weight alone.

I wish that I could be there to carry it alongside you.

-Ravhi

You are there, though you are far away. Ever do I think of you, and though I miss you very much, even knowing you are there gives me strength. I do not know why we were given such difficult roads…but they are beneath our feet, and we must walk them, as best we are able. Knowing I am not alone in this struggle, in this feeling…helps. More than you can know.

I wish, too, I knew why you had been given that charge. Perhaps it has to do with us, I cannot say. I am growing used to having more questions than answers, but it is still…aggravating, to say the least. And you are not alone in fear, either. I fear for my world, I grieve for my world. Much will be saved, but much will be lost…I must cast out sorrow. The road remains to be walked.

As for the Rite…trust yourself, Ravhi. You have borne sorrow and uncertainty, hope and joy. You have looked at your own darkness, and grappled with it, and made it part of your strength. Do what is best for your people. Do what is best for your world. When the time comes, I believe you will know what to do. And whatever that is, whatever comes of it…we shall face the future with open arms, and without fear.

Together.

Ravhi,

We have arrived safely on Valais–I thought you might like to know. This place is…strange. Stranger than any world so far. Something is wrong with time here, according to Lucxja. They do not seem to have the same concept of past, present, and future as you or I might. Things in the past were “Yesterday”–no matter how far gone they are. The future is “Tomorrow”–however far forward. They are named, it seems, for the day on which they are born; and their names for numbers and days are very strange.

They do not seem to know the constellations here. I do not know what to make of that.

And yet, amidst all that, what seems strangest is the fact that…they do not allow singing here. It is associated solely with the “Undead” who seem to plague this place. They use it to lure their victims, we are told. We heard the song of one of those Undead, a particularly strong one. It was very strange–the melody was beautiful, but the lyrics made my skin crawl. What kind of place can this be, to have singing be a threat? We shall see, I suppose.

We are invited to some kind of gathering–a “masquerade,” ‘tis called. I suppose I shall have to find some kind of outfit, again. (Why is my coat never sufficient? It was good enough on Almachadta.) When I figure out what I shall wear, I shall attempt to describe it. (And if you desire a good description…ask Salme.)

The evacuation continues apace. I do not think I shall make it back to Almachadta before the end. I do not…know how to feel about that. But, the road leads ever onwards, and what we do here is necessary as well. I hope, soon, to be able to introduce you to the Dog who resides in the “crossroads.” I think you shall like him very much.

I hope all is well on Mu. Dyu is well, though quite confused by Valais. Poor man–Valais, I think, was not the easiest introduction to the worlds beyond his own. But he perseveres nonetheless. You would be proud of him. Give my regards to Qarina and Chaya, please.

I think of you often.

-Wolf

Wolf -

I have been avidly reading through everything available to me in the Library, and– I don’t know. I find myself questioning more and more things that I thought I felt very certain of. I find myself making connections - between the Moment you and Salme encountered the Heart trapped within – trying, futilely, to understand what that MEANS for my world and its people, as I’m sure you can understand – and the way you describe Valaïs here. They, too, exist in a moment, do they not? With a dim awareness of the prospect of yesterday and tomorrow? Whereas, for me– with a few bright, beautiful exceptions (many of which… brought about by your presence, here, and by my side), I find myself caught forever within yesterday and tomorrow. The future seems so much more real to me than the present, Wolf. It always has, and the past has always weighed so heavily on me.

I cannot imagine a world without singing. The sun is harsh here, and our Work is hard, but the God gave us song, and we give each other that gift every day in our remembrance of Him. To think of song as a threat is very strange to me. It has only ever been a comfort in my most isolated moments. I wish, right now, that I could sing with you; I think that would make us both feel rather better.

Although, it’s not all been grim and overly-thoughtful, for me. I accompanied Qarina to the sietch yesterday. It was… terribly awkward, Wolf, I felt like a bruised thumb the entire time. And I cannot wait to do it again. I loved my travels there when I was an acolyte, I loved being able to heal them and sit and speak and listen to the people who missed the Yazhn and their presence in their lives. I even missed– simply being able to exist alongside and do mundane work for the people who left the City to walk their own path away from Yazhn oversight. Even their rough mistrust feels like a kind of kindness; they are not hiding from me the way that they feel. Is it strange to respond to that with joy in my heart? It’s not that I think anyone in the City hides themselves from me - maybe it’s the sheer novelty of the experience. I don’t know. It’s nice, and I missed it, and I was glad to take the time.

How went the masquerade? Tell me everything.

• Ravhi

It is not strange, to me–so it was, often, when I was walking the Long Road on Almachadta. The yeresh are never unwelcome–well, rarely; there are a few stories one could tell–but one is still an outsider, and yeresh have a tendency to ask uncomfortable questions, and to uncover that which some would prefer to keep closed. You are experiencing them as they are, without trying to change them, and there is, indeed, joy in that.

My own Teacher often spoke of something she called “the repair of the world”–the idea that, in many ways, the most powerful thing we can do in the world is to simply fix that which is broken, little by little, day by day. It is often not great or glamorous work–you heal a small wound, you dry some tears, you carry a sack from here to there. And yet, in so doing, the world is a little better, life a little easier, and spirits a little brighter. While I take pride in the times that I have made some great inroad against suffering…I think, on the whole, I have done more good with those little works. I am entirely unsurprised that you would find them…refreshing.

As for your comments on time…aye, I think you have the right of it. It makes a kind of sense that this (supposedly? It is not suffused as we expected) Tenebrous world would suffer from a similar-yet-inverted imbalance. On Mu, the past and the future ever press on the now–here, the now is…disconnected, adrift. I suppose, then…that the “solution,” such as it is, would be a balance between the two. We are, inevitably, shaped by where we have been, the roads we have walked; and hope for the future can be a great boon, fuel for the engine of our hearts, keeping us moving forward. Yet, as you have experienced in the sietch…one cannot ignore the now, for it is where life happens. The past is dead, and the future is unwritten, and only in this moment do we put pen to page. It is not one, not two…and thus, I suppose you could say…when truly balanced, deeply liminal. Hm.

The masquerade was…fine? It was fine. There was not much of it, before duty intervened. We battled the man(?) they call the “Shadow”–he calls himself Nicodemus, and if Salme’s “Libra” rite spoke true (and I believe it does), he once had other names, now cast off and lost. I suppose I should feel triumphant at our victory, but…I do not. There seemed no real…threat…from him? He was playing a game, and one that did not even seem to have much in the way of teeth. At the end, he merely seemed…tired.

I do not know what is going on here. But I do not think it is as clear-cut as good versus evil. I think…that I must speak to him. I do not know what I will ask, but I suspect there will be more truth to be found in his words–even in his lies, should he tell them–than in anyone else I might speak to here. I have an idea, should he agree to it, but it might be somewhat…rash…

As ever, you are in my thoughts. I eagerly await the day that we might sing together again. I await your next message with anticipation. -Wolf