Morro/Adalie letter

4080h, 3540m, 17815e, 16600w, 81% exdb-  (0:28:20)read journal page 50
A translucent gold letter has been pasted on this page.

Upon closer inspection you see:
Made from rice using a special process, this elegant gold letter is delicate and lightweight, with a
translucent surface that shimmers beautifully when touched by even the barest illumination. The
stationary is crisp and absorbs ink evenly, allowing for perfect penmanship depending on the author
of the missive.


Carefully you read what has been written on it:
Pasted by Adalie on the 24th of Miraman, 590 AF

[This letter shows severe signs of wear and tear as if it has been
wadded into a tight ball.]

[The writing here is marked through with a slew of haphazard scribbles.]
All things will fall into Oblivion. Though you have fled to the city of
Light, you have not escaped the inevitable end.

[Each letter here is pressed deeply into the parchment as if an
excessive amount of force was applied while writing them.]
Misunderstanding and misdirection are key to Chaos' power, my dear, but
Good is, and always will be, absolute, unchanging, and eternal. It is
not Oblivion which will find me wherever I may go, but the inevitable
triumph of the Light. I just hope you can one day see it from the
darkness you've chosen to shroud yourself in.

[At odds with the tattered state of the material it is written on, the
following portion of the letter is written in a neat, slanting script.]
I do not blame you, dear Adalie, for having chosen the Light. It is a
comforting thing, to think that Oblivion cannot reach you so long as you
work hard. It must be such an appealing lie. I blame myself. I must have
failed in my attempts to teach you. Perhaps you will once again find the
courage to seek out the truth and perhaps this time it will not frighten
you so.

[Beneath the smudged letters and the slopy writing, a sweet smelling
dark brown stain is creeping into the paper here.]
It is not one who chooses the Light, my young, sweet Morro, but it is
the Light that rules and conquers with an undeniable finesse that can't
help but draw in those who are wise enough to see the truth and the
strength and the rightness of it all. You're right, I was frightened, I
admit, and pained as well. It is always frightneing when one learns the
truth about something they were so misguided about before. It was
painful to see these people -- Amunet, Flair, Manifest -- these people
that I respected so deeply from far across Sapience, were proven fools
when finally seen up close.

The strive for Oblivion is nothing but the wanton need of immature and
impressionable people to have a "mission" that absolves them of
responsibility and gives them an excuse to play with dangerous, harmful
powers without having to admit the selfishness of it all.

It causes me a great degree of disappointment to know that you belong to
such a childish school of thought along with them, but I've long since
lost the rose-tinted glasses I saw you with in those days when you said
you loved me.

[The neat, slanting script begins again here, squeezed into the last bit
of clean surface left.]
Indeed I have failed you if that is all you see now. For all that I
loved you, it seems to have been in vain. I was young and in love and so
stupid not to see what would become of you without the proper guidance.
So stupid not to see that you needed more than an aspiring priestess.
How many others have I failed? I apologise, lirann saga, for leaving you
to such a fate.

But I will not despair, at least no more than I can help. Oblivion will
take my mistakes and yours. None of this will matter. Indeed, none of it
matters now. Know that, dear Adalie. Take comfort in it as I have.

P.S. I am afraid that this poor, abused bit of paper is falling to
pieces. Do not send it back to me. Look instead to its faying edges and
see that Chaos marches ever-forward.