Report Heading to the Hall of Kindling and Charcoal

Fir

Metadata

Reference Number: BICI/SSP/CRJ0703/003

Title: Report Heading to the Hall of Kindling and Charcoal

Author: Fir

Date: Written approximately in the third month of year 5607 A. o. W.

Extent: One report, three pages long

To His Eternal Warmth:

Spica and I, accompanied by a band of junior Undying Embers I relieved from mentoring rocks and dirt within the Tending Grounds, are now making our way up to Scritta’s Hall. We’ll make a brief stop at Zeolite Village, and then spend a few days in Wolfjaw. That should put us at our final destination just in time for the second day of Scritta’s little show. 

I know it’s supposed to be faster to skirt along the edge of the forest on the western side of the river. But really, it’s such a pain to navigate in a cart, with awful visibility besides, why would I ever do that? There’s nothing there but aberrations and Stonesworth. Why take Spica to Stonesworth when I could take her to absolutely anywhere else in the world? 

Wolfjaw will be a good place for her to visit. I want to introduce her to the head Ember there. What was his name…? Octo? Octen…?

Ugh. I don’t remember. Surely You know who I mean. The Ember with the glass eye and the incredibly fast spearwork. He’ll gladly host us for a few days. It’ll be a good place to relax, restock our supplies, teach Spica about the world… and then make that awful trek up the mountain.

Speaking of awful treks, our current trek has been nothing of the sort. It’s been lovely, actually. All thanks to Spica, now that she’s returned to the good spirits I first met her in. Her thirst for knowledge is invigorating. I see it every time her eyes sweep along the horizon. Then she’ll ask me questions about our world, and the hours we spend in our rickety little cart just melt away. 

She’s coming into herself. I met her after she received her Spark, so there are parts of Your presence I simply can’t imagine her without. All that delicate purple would have been so dull — the blonde and orange suit her so perfectly! But now that she wears Your Brand, she’s really become something else. Embers dance off her body, just like they do mine. She’s no longer freezing cold to the touch. And most importantly, Your power resounds with her every step.

The other day, I presented her with a little bow to wear in her hair, attached with a veil that smolders like a low, constant flame. Decorative, of course, but don’t I deserve to decorate my protege a little? I haven’t made accessories in such a long time. It was refreshing to see I still had the talent. It also pulls together her uniform — custom-tailored for her, of course.

She was perfect before, but she’s somehow even more perfect now. I’ll admit it. I’m a little obsessed with her. But who wouldn’t be obsessed with the literal answer to their prayers?

I’m learning of some of her most interesting quirks. She’s always asking around for more paper. Some nights, I’ll see her tent illuminated, with her silhouette crouched over what I have to assume must be some letters she’s writing. I’ve asked her if she wants them sent, but she always refuses. Once, a few nights ago, I smelled burning paper. Something I’m all too familiar with. 

I wonder — maybe they’re not letters, but prayers, all meant for You?

Earlier today, Spica and I spoke about Scritta’s Hall. She mentioned once again that she was born there, and I told her with a wink that I would never forget that. Her flustered stutter? Delightful.  

She then asked about my first home and if we’d be able to visit it while we were traveling. I told her there was no point. It had been abandoned for years. Even if I did take her there, there wouldn’t be anything worth seeing.

Then, she asked something surprising: she asked if I missed it. I told her no. What was left to miss? Nothing. Besides, my life now is so much richer than my life ever was back then. I didn’t think it was a sad topic, but I caught her frowning. 

I asked her if it made her think of her own home. I mistook the name when I first asked. It’s Seabreeze SHOAL, not Seabreeze SHOUT. In retrospect, Seabreeze Shout does not make much sense. 

Spica responded gently that her birthplace, if she can call it that, is Scritta’s Hall, but her heart’s true birthplace was Seabreeze Shoal. There is a part of her that misses Seabreeze Shoal, but thinking of it hurts. She says her memories are stained now — a little extreme, in my opinion, but an insistence I believe will mellow in time.

She then described her memories of Scritta’s Hall to me. It isn’t her home, and it hasn’t been for a long time, but she still holds such love for it. I wish that the version that lived in her memories was real. I’d love to visit it.

Too bad Scritta is… well. You know exactly what she’s like. 

I just hope the truth won’t crush her poor heart too badly. Oh, well. Some pains are unavoidable. Like having to speak with Scritta. Absolutely awful. 

The only thing I’m looking forward to is seeing Scritta meet Spica. She’ll be livid! Oh, what fun it will be!

I’ll report back once we’re at Scritta’s hall. Until then!

Your ever faithful disciple,

-Fir