A Page From a Different Book

You bathe in the light of the Endire. You have never known anything but marble thrones and their magnanimous grace. In return, you shall know no rest in service to your destiny.

In the courtyard fenced off by oakwood palisades, there sits a fountain gushing with fresh water. Crystalline gems lay scattered at its stone bed like discarded coins. A handful is worth more than the depths of the Imperial Treasury.

Do you remember? This is where you were raised.

North of the central plains lay purple mountains planted with verbena and fields of thistles. When you were young, we picked hyacinths at the entrance to the mountains. A family of cats roamed about there. A feral kitten swiped at your arm and made it bleed. For a full decade afterwards, you were afraid.

Your brothers and sisters departed the temple, ventured to all corners of Aparthia, and never returned. You visited each year and prayed at the foot of the linden tree. You buried the kitten there after you found it smothered by winter, then fended off the ravenous ants when your grave proved too shallow.

The temple doors will be closed the next time you return. I have seen it in my dreams, along with empty veins and shimmering skies. A storm brews across the sea and something grumbles in the wake of the Abyss. Only what light remains of the Endire may compel the Whispering Chamber to reopen, then close for our eternity, for only at the end of ten thousand years may what’s frozen feel the warmth of a new sun.

Blessed be the chosen.