Nawain/Logs/20240907

She sat at the massive desk in the Mrodhouse, leafing through the spiritwood journal to find the last page. A curl found its way between her teeth and she gnawed on it as she re-read the last few lines. “It will work. Sihmiauri is ready. It knows its task, and I know mine. We’re ready for this. It will work, and then we can rest.” 

The wild-haired cleric inhales, and picks up the quill, dipping the crow feather in the Katamba-black ink. She writes. 

“Day 109 of year 450, 140 days until Sihmiauri Nave. Dear Tev,"

“Consequences. There are always consequences. Whether you succeed or fail at a thing, there will be consequences. People seem to forgive the consequences of success faster than the consequences of failure, though.” 

“My heart hurts, father. I failed so many people, and I don’t have enough energy to fix it. I’m so tired, and there’s so much I don’t know how to do. I tell myself to go out and listen to the anger, the sadness, and the blame, and I do. I tell my lips to smile and drop polite words at the right moments, and they do. I tell my eyes to stay dry and open, and they do. But when I escape back to the quiet, I can’t keep the voices from reverberating into a cacophony of demands and accusations, and underneath it all is the steady tick of the orlog counting down. I tell them to be quiet, and they just get louder, drowning out the prayers and the pleas.“ 

“In 140 more days, Sihmiauri will return, and it will tear me apart. I hope. If it doesn’t, it is truly more than just a godling now, and I have no hope of reigning it in again. Gods help us all.” 

“I wish I’d burned with the rest of you. I’m not big enough for this.”  

The pen hovers above the page, dripping ink, marring the careful penmanship as her hunched shoulders shake. Nawain finally sets the quill down and stands, wrapping her arms around her middle as she moves through the dim room, the wet path of her tears lit only by the three candles on the low altar. She kneels at the carved shrine and lights more incense, then sits on her heels and gazes into the flames with empty eyes, wishing they brought warmth to her soul like they used to.