Think of it like this: the Ur is not the flame, nor the perfect flask of clear water above it. It is the vessel’s single flaw: the site of nucleation without which the water would never boil.
She trusted me enough to carry her. Five stars.
At the surface, the water is all commotion, but beneath, the bubbles of vapor begin to organize into queues, strands: ever thinner, ever quieter. Past certain depths, we may go long moments without seeing the trail. Centuries. We will be scalded. We will be drowned.
Some of us have lived long enough—or perhaps fully enough (because what is time to a problem solved?)—to find peace sailing this ocean with nothing and no one above but sky.
Is Donaar merely a mask which Vars-Melis occasionally dons? Or did Donaar… invent a god… and an absurd city of tailed dragonborn… to use as a secret identity? (Three out of five stars.)
But upon the glass floor—beyond which is only flame!—we will at last trace that fathomless mark of origin. Four lines... two in parallel… one to cross them... and one above, curved, like the scythe at culling.
Grandmother, I wish I were as secure and as brave. Four out of five stars. (Last star reserved for home.)
‘Grandmother, I took a page from your book and started writing letters to most everyone. Some I send (though I hardly trust the birds to carry them) and some I cannot... When I write to you, it is always on a clear night with starlight through the window. You'd like that. I miss you, and dream of you often.’
They say in Jinaar that "In great sadness and in great storms, the abyss lies between the crest of two waves." And when I thought I'd lost a family I recovered so much more in you, Grandmother. I'll resent the part of myself which never told you that enough.
‘Prince Oaf, I hope this finds you well. How is your young ward? She is growing up in a blink. Soon I wonder if you two won't look much the same. If she ever wants to learn how to use that ridiculous sword with some finesse (not your strong suit)... You know where to find me. The door is never locked.’
I know better than most that it's hard to leave a relationship without momentum but just because something has ended doesn't mean it failed. I wanted something I’d never had, so I attempted something I’d never tried, and that made all the difference.
‘My dearest, most precious friend and sibling. Do you ever wish we met in our youth? I often picture it and wish it true. My mother would have loved you, and the days would've been carefree. What would your first shape have been? I still can't decide. It's silly... I never send these notes anyway.’
Dear Diary: Early this morning I found the monastery library locked, the dew chill on its door. I am no longer welcome--but I knew this. Returning to my cell a final time, I find a note addressed to Grandmother Night (my pulse doubles) & a curious little acorn. Who in his right mind would offer HER a helping hand?
'I know when things are near the end, can sense it. My body shivers, fears it intensely. Push away, close my eyes. Here, now, at the edge of the wood, if I don't turn, take one last look... regret. So I do, but I am already alone. The path continues, deeper into the dark grove. I must walk on my own now, but visit me often.'
Lots of people know what to do, it's the most common thing in the world, that's why it's called common sense. What's rare is the agency to actually do it. But you did it. You will always have my respect.
Dear His Dragon Majesty (ha, you must love that): I know you dislike reading (or perhaps do not know how?), so I will keep this brief. Perhaps you have noticed the new orphanage just outside of Jinaar. It is a home for waywards, like you once were. I named it for you: Kevin’z Place. Be good, little king.
cloak / warm shadow / kindness / cunning / criminal (sometime) / matron / matriarch / mother (to mothers) / star-sent / shelter / shade / harbor
My dear Walnut: What I would give to see you through the centuries! To see yr every wild shape! To that end, I have named an orphanage in yr honor: The War’s End. It is deep in the forest and houses wildlings, like you once were; and no city shall ever find it. When you see a star wink at you, tis me!-- wink back.
Mielikki / goddess-kept / larch, blood-red / new growth / bark-hard / animals (slain) / feral (ish) / foredaughter / blade to turn earth / seedling / sibling / sister
To my carriage-mate and my friend. This will end like everything else and that must bring you some comfort, but I have to wonder: Were you so preoccupied with being thirsty later in life that you ignored the glass of water in your hand while you had it? Sometimes I think I was.
