My Beloved Dove,

Thou hast seen me fully, but something new has awakened in my soul that you have not yet seen. Tarry but awhile, maybe together we might mend the path to the river Styx? Mayhaps you've forgotten now, who we were then, and that which was left in our possession as Qui'anar? that we still possess the clarifying reagent of our Patron's beneficence and unto our very science? to shut the dire mouths and move the great mouths of the undead and undying? and with it a lasting hope that we, just as the Deathspeakers of old who gathered in those most hallowed Halls of Life, hidden within the Ithmyias, as Disciples unto Death, might again find the path leading unto Him, who hast called unto us from the very beginning of time? In every separation, there is a link. This is an eternal truth the Qui'anar understood, wherever their paths have led them thusly, I pray that we might gather again together to once again remember that which is still not yet lost in this middle ground, our metaxu.

I long sent this letter address to our LORD, but in some mysterious way it was returned to me as I awoke in the Temple of Dreams. Blessed Valnurana, beloved of our LORD, who through her supernatural grace allowed the dreamseer Grom Defaron to find the path to Styx... whose grimoire we are now not permitted to read but merely by the tales of our elders, whom we have now become. For the path to Styx has been closed to us until we find our way back.

And for piety's sake --- I did not trust the heralds of His departing us (for part of Him remains with those in possession of the artefacts left to our care, His many soulstones), and as the conduit to the Soulrealms was closed from our obelisk, doubts began to become pillories, hedging in the fatality of that spiritual wound. And while this grief from the uprootedness is still present with us, it has now been replaced with hope in the supernal bond we acquired through our faith in our LORD, and I have no present shame any longer, but a yearning for His return.

It is this hope in the promises we have kept, in our faith, and as custodians of the innermost passages of the soul, where we found the presages of Life, everlasting and eternal, that I yearn for the coming day when House Atreide returns to those things it has built in the realm of Souls. We cannot spite the day of small beginnings. For we know this was Lord Sartan and King Ugrach's plan from the very beginning, to obscure and make heavy the yoke upon all of Sapience's kindred folk. We all sacrificed and suffered from this dalliance with darkness within the City of Destruction.

Our early wisdom, through Kayna, Fortyr, Nightcrawler, and Katoreos told us that if our LORD returned in such a manner as within Mhaldor, it would only have spelled ruin for our Order, and so it has happened! As the penultimate Oracle before the resurrection of His avatar in this material plane, I felt it was my one responsibility in the spiritual body of our Order, that of memory, to recall into our collective consciousness those things we through sorrow, might have forgotten in the hope that we might yet rekindle that which is but a few embers --- before they are lost to obscurity entirely.

This reverberation out of my heart through my hand returned to me, and convinced me that all is not lost, stray though we might. But if we remain true, then we shall blot out the ignorance of doubt and despair. The tyranny of soulbleed must end, as always, with the Endbringer. A Kingdom so divided, cannot stand. Our latent thanatology is our last arbor of defense against the abominable actions of Slith, may he be accursed and thrown into the Pit.

"Is He one or many, merging
Name and fame in One,
Like a stream, to which, converging,
Many streamlets run ?

Who shall call His dream fallacious ?
Who has searched or sought
All the unexplored and spacious
Universe of thought ?

Who in His own skill confiding,
Shall with rule and line
Mark the border-land dividing
Human and the Divine ?




Penned by my hand on the 6th of Glacian, in the year 858 AF.