Ladies, Gentlemen, and Faefolk,

It is with a great swelling of pride that I share with you the news of Myatt's final triumph. Late last month, adventurers hearkened to the sound of dark laughter, and witnessed the flash of black lightning over Delos. Nezaya immediately took her companions to New Thera to rouse and fetch Myatt, while other adventurers converged upon the Scarlattan Theatre of Delos where, awaiting any and all comers, stood an apparition of Lord Scarlatti Himself. The apparition's booming call rolled across the land as it summoned Myatt to be judged.

Following Nezaya, Badriyah, and Inuad, Myatt answered the call, but blanched upon seeing the looming menace of Lord Scarlatti, presented as a figure of cold judgment with none of His wisdom, warmth, or compassion. This sketch, of all the sketches that Myatt had produced, was different, after all. This was no historic event, no nostalgic tale, no cautionary fable. This was the culmunation of Myatt's fears, doubts, anxieties, and the form it took was intended to evoke the supreme authority Myatt recognised in the Lord Bard. Surely, Who else could judge?

Myatt faltered. And in that hesitation, other adventurers boldly stepped forward to be judged by the apparition, presenting their greatest works for scrutiny. It was Badriyah who first dared came forth, presenting a book that represented a work of great sacrifice--and it was Badriyah who first experienced the cold cruelty of the apparition's criticism. One by one, adventurers stepped forward and presented their works, and one by one they were cut down by the dismissive brutality of the apparition's disdain. A song, a play, a painting, a poem, an achievement, none of it satisfied the judge before them.

And yet, at the same time, other adventurers urged Myatt to steel her resolve, Zorina among them as one of her most adamant supporters. Badriyah, Nezaya, Darona, Xylarys, and Doravan too encouraged Myatt to face her fears. Finally, Myatt returned to face her judgment, just in time for the final adventurer presentation by Aodfionn to conclude with the knight's unceremonious demise. And so, Myatt stepped forth, presenting herself and her sketchbook to the apparition.

The apparition showed Myatt the least mercy of all. It tore into her work like a rabid hound. It condemned the subjects' proportions, the illustrated refraction of light, the exaggeration of facial features. It sneered at Myatt's use of colour, of the absence of dynamism, the heaviness of her brush-work. It went beyond criticism and into mere insult. It mocked Myatt's lifetime of artistic passion and experience.

And then Myatt spoke. In defiance, Myatt reminded the apparition, and all of us, that no One being can pass judgment on the works we put forth. Not the artist herself, and not even the Lord Bard. Myatt recognized the value in her art's subjectivity, the very fact that she could doubt her work yet find it praised by others. She recognised the value of one's work not only as a personal accomplishment, but as something to be bravely shared and experienced by others. And most importantly, she learned to never take a critic too seriously, especially when that critic produces nothing of its own.

The apparition raged before Myatt's resolve. It splintered. And in a burst of light, it vanished.

The apparition of the Lord Bard was gone.

And then He was among us.

The Lord Bard appeared before the assembled adventurers, and beckoned for Myatt to make the offering she had traveled so long and so far to make. That we had all come together to retrieve on her behalf. That had caused such grief over the course of the last year, and more. Myatt gave her sketchbook to Him, and He accepted her offering. And then, He summoned forth the very spirit that had plagued us so, and dispelled it. In the wake of its existence, Lord Scarlatti reminded us of the ripples of our actions, the consequences of our choices, no matter how big or small, and how they spread through the world around us. Then, with a final act of praise for the mortals who served in this endeavour, He gifted us His favour and took His leave. Her offering made and her pilgrimage complete, so too did Myatt.

Allow me to say simply this: thank you.

Thank all of you. You have been incredible, if sometimes unconventional, comrades-in-arms over the course of this journey. We have worked together, endured together, and triumphed together. This would not have been possible without all of you. There are too many of you for me to name, but know that you have my heartfelt gratitude.

I do not pretend to think we shall remain in such jolly cooperation forever. Nor would I expect us to. All of you have your own truths to pursue, your own paths to walk, and those paths will intersect with others. We will meet again. We will clash. We will fight. But never forget what we have accomplished on this day. Never forget what we have accomplished before when we stood united.

Yesterday, we were allies. Today, we are acquaintances. And tomorrow is unknown.

I shall not simply say good-bye, however. Let me say instead: until next time.

In Song,
Taelle Starling

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Mayan, in the year 959 AF.