Page 82
Things here have become increasingly tense within the symposium halls. People are more careful when they speak now than when I first arrived, and there are even certain archives that have become restricted without explanation. Even the senior scholars seem worried by the current disturbances beneath the city.
I suspect the mountain passes will close early this winter, so my letters may become less frequent for a time. Do not mistake silence for absence, please!
And please try not to dismantle any unstable resonance foundations while I am gone. I realize this request is probably silly, but I feel obligated to make it regardless. I am worried about the shifting in the aethercurrents and the foundations as you've mentioned.
An ink splotch is seen at the beginning of the next sentence, as if the pen lingered too long.
There are moments where I still instinctively turn to tell you something before remembering you are not here to hear it. I miss you. I hope you are doing alright.
The light endures and so must we.
Always your best friend,
Elowynn
Chapter Sixteen
“There are some truths the world survives only because very few people know them.”
— Restricted Conclave record, author removed
Frostfall, 750 A.V.
The sea was in a foul mood. Waves assaulted the cliffs beneath Lumenshire Abbey hard enough to rattle dust from the lower archive ceilings while storm bells groaned through the upper towers. Somewhere overhead, one of the younger Sisters shrieked—likely from losing her battle with the terrible drafts in the corridors.
Sister Agatha ignored all of it.
She sat alone within the lower archives with Elowynn’s letter unfolded beside a half-drained cup of tea that had gone cold. The old Astrari rubbed one hand over her face in a tired gesture before glaring down at the parchment for the dozenth time that sun.
The currents beneath Veylspire feel wrong.
Agatha shut her eyes, sighing. “For the love of the Stars,” she muttered to herself. That was bad. Not the letter. That was actually written quite well. The brilliant young scholar wrote like someone attempting to casually organize the end of civilization into tidy paragraphs.
No, the problem was that Elowynn had noticed the currents shifting already, which meant the changes were accelerating. She was grateful Elowynn didn't go into much written detail.
But all of it made Agatha increasingly annoyed. She had spent the better part of thirty turnings, all through the Ash Wars and then some, hoping the world would postpone ending until after she died peacefully in her sleep.
Apparently, the world had other plans.
Agatha leaned back in her chair with a sigh that sounded like air seeping from a coffin that had been sealed for centuries. An old saying rolled through her mind:
Some knowledge survived because people preserved it. Other knowledge survived because people hid it well.
A low, subtle vibration rolled beneath the floor and Agatha went eerily still. Surely it must have just been a large wave hitting the cliffside.
She waited.
No, this was not that. Her pointed ears twitched, and her tired gaze moved toward the ceiling. She watched as one of the astrylite lanterns trembled. It was feeble, but it was enough she could make out the feeling through the stone. It reminded her of a distant drum, its rhythm buried beneath the cliffs.
The first time the humming returned after all these turnings, she had just about thrown an entire lantern into the sea from sheer panic while walking along the sea-gardens. Now it mostly just annoyed the stars out of her.
Well, mostly. Now she was aware that bigger problems were afoot.
Her gaze moved back to Elowynn’s letter.
Master Vaelor has begun taking unusual interest in my research.
Agatha stared at that sentence for several long moments. Then:
