Unsent Letter to Jasmine, Written Approximately 04/02, Recreated Here

Spica

Metadata

Reference Number: BICI/SSP/CRJ0402/001

Title: Unsent Letter to Jasmine, Written Approximately 04/02, Recreated Here

Author: Spica

Date: Written approximately 04/02, Year 5607 A.o.W.

Extent: One letter, three pages long

Additional notes: Was originally found burnt, like most of Spica’s writings. The letter has been recreated here.

To Jasmine, my dearest friend:

My heart wars between hope and sorrow as I write this. Just when I had accepted that my prayers would not be answered, His Eternal Warmth gave me my heart’s desire. I saw it this morning as I cleaned out our hearth. For all my devotion, I had always assumed the stories exaggerated the truth. I was proven wrong. The stories can’t capture the splendor of the moment. 

The ashes scattered into the air. From black and gray came a glow of bright gold, revealing His Eternal Warmth’s sigil suspended in the air. A Spark, meant solely for I. I didn’t dare touch it, my fingers far too unworthy, but the warmth of the embers was proof enough of its veracity. All these years of waiting, and now His Eternal Warmth has finally called me to serve as an Undying Ember! 

You never cared much for history, but I grew pious on the legacies of Undying Embers like Mica The Shield and Garnet Glassheart. I’m not foolhardy enough to proclaim that my name could ever be encased in legend like theirs, but to think that my lowly self could share the title of Undying Ember alongside them… what grander blessing could there be, than to be a beacon of hope for those who will rise long after your fall?

As His sigil faded, so did my joy. At first, I felt a little silly. I’ve heard stories of Embers receiving their Sparks my entire life. No one explains how Mica The Shield found his way to the burning tree where he heard His Eternal Warmth’s voice, or how Garnet Glassheart knew to approach Strinarre’s fallen walls. I didn’t know what to do next. I asked my father, but his years of studying at the Hall of Kindling and Charcoal existed a lifetime away from the frenetic paces of becoming an Undying Ember.

Shame tugged at my every step, but shame has long since been my old companion, and so I forged onwards. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I must have missed another message in the ashes. If anyone would have more insight, it would be Pina and Deodar. I went to the entrance of Seabreeze Shoal and found them stationed by the main gate, their more permanent home than the cottage they sleep in.

I’m eternally grateful for how they’ve tolerated my antics throughout the years. Even as my dream of serving as an Ember grew increasingly unrealistic, they still encouraged my prayers.

I told them what I had found. Shock reflected in the orange of their irises. For the first time, that color was not a far-off fantasy. Maybe my own eyes would soon reflect the orange glow of His mighty forge, and I would no longer be stained by the dull purple in my hair and eyes. I would don the same uniform, protected by obsidian and gold. His sigil would emblazon my stole, showing that I carried His blessing with me everywhere. And that same sigil would brand my skin, proving that I was forever His.

Perhaps if I wasn’t standing between them, they would have muttered their suspicions to one another. What they did instead was congratulate me, though I could hear the confusion in their voices. It wasn’t until Pina touched me that they accepted my words. Unlike them, no embers rolled off my skin, but they must have felt His Eternal Warmth’s blaze within me. 

Deodar recovered first. “Now that you have a Spark, maybe Pina and I will finally get to take a vacation,” he had joked. His words, as teasing as they were, set my heart aflame. To stand at their side as a sister-in-arms and not merely a childish admirer driven by an unrealistic dream, and to be trusted with the protection of our village would be the highest honor. The fear that had seized my heart — could I truly become strong enough to protect everyone? — burned away with the reminder that His Eternal Warmth had accepted me. If He saw me as worthy, then who was I to deny that assertion?

I asked them what I was to do next. What had happened when they received their sigils? 

Deodar and Pina paused yet again. Their faces, already bearing a strong resemblance, only grew even more alike as they adopted the same expression. 

“We didn’t do anything. A few minutes after we received our Sparks, our parents let an Ember in to explain what would happen next. We left for the Tending Grounds the next day.” Pina explained. 

“It’s different out here. Fifteen years and we’ve never seen a single Ember come from this place,” Pina continued.

Longer, if the other villagers were to be believed. As you know, my family does not hail from here. I hold no claim to the legacy of this village, not at all like you. Despite that, the villagers have been open with me, and I know that a Spark has not been sighted within Seabreeze Shoal’s walls for decades.

“That makes you very special, Spica,” Deodar added.

“Your best bet is to ask the Embers coming into town today. There’s a good chance one could be here for you,” Pina said.

I knew better than to ask them to accompany me to the Tending Grounds. Aberrations don’t often attack our village, but everyone here would meet a grisly and guaranteed death should they abandon their posts.

Before I venture out into the village to search for my destiny, I sit at my desk for what may be the last time, writing to you. My items are already packed. For all the items that fill Father and I’s home, there are surprisingly few I find myself packing. My spear, my clothes, plenty of paper and ink to write letters to you with, my favorite seaglass necklace that you and I made together as children — all of those must come with me. But my books, my cooking utensils, all the maps of the village square that Father and I drafted over the years… I love them, and yet I need none of them. I can say goodbye to them all without hesitation.

Yet I find myself hesitating at the thought of leaving you, Jasmine… Though I do not know if you would feel the same. You have defined the best parts of my life. You taught me how to dream. How to hope. You welcomed me not as an outsider to the village, but as a dear companion. My childhood memories are cast in rays of warm gold because of you. 

We must have met in our previous lives. My earliest memories, as unclear as they are, are of the Hall of Kindling and Charcoal. Of lectures that flowed in my blood as I was learning language, of grand walls and of scholars passing by me in their magnificent robes. But I remember the day I met you, not long after Father and I arrived at Seabreeze Shoal. Our eyes met, and something settled within me, a crooked piece of metal I hadn’t known was bent before you. 

My life without you is a life half-lived, and yet your life without me would still be filled with both duty and love. I hope that, in all our years together, I provided you at least a fraction of the solace you have provided me. 

The only solace I can grasp onto is the thought that this separation will be temporary. I know I may not have a choice in where His Eternal Warmth calls me to serve in the world, but I sincerely hope that He will see my desire and bring me back to you. As long as I may live, I promise — you will never be alone. 

Although I hesitate, I know I must leave. Even as I write this, I can hear your voice telling me to go. I can hear your frustration. “Don’t be stupid, Spica! You’ve wanted this your whole life, haven’t you? Just because I’m stuck here doesn’t mean you have to be, too.” 

You would never ask me to stay. I know this. You would also never ask me to return. I know this, too. Please, do not take this letter as a goodbye. Take it as a farewell. I promise you, I will not disappear. I will send you so many letters that you will tire of reading them. Even if my feet carry me far away from you, my heart will remain.

Whether it takes me three months or thirty years, I will return to you. I wish I had the courage to tell you all this in person. But I have always been a coward, and the words that flow from my ink remain trapped in my throat.

When I return to you, I hope that I can speak aloud all of the sweet secrets nestled deep in my chest. 

Yours, now and forever,
Spica

Journal Entry, Dated 04/02

Jasmine

Metadata

Reference Number: BICI/SSP/CRJ0402/002

Title: Journal Entry, Dated 04/02

Author: Jasmine

Date: Written approximately 04/02, Year 5607 A.o.W.

Extent: One journal entry, four pages long

04/02

The last fisher just went out to sea, giving me my first break of the night. I count them one by one as they take their lanterns and sail away. It’s exhausting and tedious, but I’d rather track them all and know when I can leave than have someone else disappear past the fog. 

I can see their lanterns extinguishing through the window. Soon, they’ll all go dark, and the only light will come from me. I don’t like the darkness. I hate being unable to see them; I never know what to expect. They insist it’s to not disturb the fish, but… I just don’t see why it’s worth the risk. 

Maybe that’s why I’m not a fisher. Even if I had the chance… no. I struggle to call the lighthouse a good place to work, but it’s far better than a rickety little boat jostled by choppy waters.

It’s quiet now. But not peaceful. It’s… unsettling. The birds haven’t come by today. I cleaned up all the blood, but I wonder if they can still smell it. 

Maybe they smell my dinner.

Spica tried her best, but our attempt at dinner was awful. Gull is a strange meat; I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to it. Worse still, the meat was somehow fishy. It lingered in my mouth for hours afterward. How do you fuck up tasting like fish? I don’t understand.

Blossom took one bite of the meat and refused to eat more, not that I can blame her. Spica and I forced down as much as we could, then tossed the scraps to the village cats. Even they seemed disappointed to eat it.

We took the carcass and made soup. Without the fishy meat, it still wasn’t great, but it was tolerable. Even Blossom ate some of that. 

She didn’t yell at me for killing her friend. She saw the bird, plucked and headless, on a cutting board on our kitchen table, muttered, “Ugh, not again,” and stormed outside. When she came back, it was with Spica in tow. 

Spica will never read this, but sorry. For the trouble. And the shitty dinner.

And Blossom… I can’t stop thinking about our conversation earlier. I got the morning’s first batch of milk bread from the bakery for her breakfast. We had some leftover melon. I sliced the last of it up for her. 

Blossom jumped back and nearly screamed when she came down to see me in the kitchen this morning. She put a hand over her heart, trying to calm herself down. “What are you doing awake!?”

I sat at the table. The food was in front of me, and I had arranged what I had saved for her into something presentable. “I couldn’t sleep.”

She crept closer to the table. Her eyes kept darting towards the bread. “Sooooo… you got bread to wake yourself up?”

I pushed the bread towards her. “It’s all yours.”

She snatched up a piece and stuffed it in her mouth like a squirrel stealing a nut. “Really?” she asked, already chewing. Of course she didn’t think to ask that before eating. 

I thought of how Mom would scold her for talking with her mouth full. She hated bad table manners. Blossom picked them all up from me. 

“I already ate.”

“Yesssss!” She wrapped her thin arms around the entire basket and dragged it towards herself. The melon was abandoned off to the side. I should have predicted that, honestly. 

She spent the next few minutes tearing through as much bread as she possibly could. Even for her age, she’s tiny. How does she fit all that in her? I definitely couldn’t. After a while, talking became interesting again, because she asked me, “Are you sure you’ll be okay tonight?”

“I can take a nap and still be at the shore to count lanterns in time.”

“I can count lanterns for you,” Blossom said innocently, as if she hadn’t pitched this same idea to me two dozen times before.

“You have school,” I reminded her.

Scowling, she picked up another piece of bread. Her scowl deepened when she put it down a moment later. She must have been too full. “I don’t like school.”

“I know, and I don’t care. You’re going.”

She didn’t look any different than the day before, but something in her eyes had changed when she looked at me. They were still pale, still too big for her face. But they were empty. Made her stop looking like a child. “No one should have to be alone there.”

She used to scare Mom and Dad whenever she did this. I remember overhearing a conversation I shouldn’t have, one night when I couldn’t sleep. Blossom and I still shared a room back then, with Mom and Dad taking the other, and they must not have noticed me as I pushed open our bedroom door.

Their bedroom door was also open, and I could hear them murmuring to each other in bed. About how Blossom insisted she learned her songs from the lighthouse, and Mom, after hearing that, told Dad to keep her out of there until she was at least my age. Then she sighed.

“Sometimes I wonder if we shouldn’t have let Dilsk convince us to have another child. That we should have stopped at one like we originally agreed. I love Blossom as much as I do Jasmine. Of course I do. There’s just… something not right with her. And it scares me.”

I’ll never forget that.

I didn’t think there was anything wrong with Blossom back then. I didn’t realize she was strange. Her songs were new and intriguing to me, sure, but that didn’t make her… wrong, or frightening.

Now, I know better. I know that her songs are just as strange as she is. But that’s just who she is. Besides, she wasn’t the only strange child in our family. I was strange, too, especially at her age. Why would I ever want to leave Seabreeze Shoal – my home, my legacy? 

Only Spica ever understood me. 

“Dad managed it just fine on his own before I was old enough to start helping.” I told her.

The emptiness faded from her eyes. Sometimes I wonder what unsettled Mom more: the moment when the emptiness came, or the moment when it left. “But it shouldn’t have to be like that! Besides, I know you hate it. If I helped, maybe you’d hate it less,” Blossom said.

Maybe I would. We could share the burden if she worked there. We’d also see each other every day, unlike now. Between her days at school and the nights I have to work at the lighthouse, sometimes we only see the other asleep. I don’t mind being by myself, but she’s my sister. Even when she pisses me off, I’d still rather have her hanging around, bothering me all day.

“I’ll keep going to school. I’ll even go today! Let me work with you tonight and skip tomorrow. Missing one day won’t be enough to make me fall behind.”

“Blossom…”

“Please?” Blossom asked. “Please, Jasmine?”

She looked at me so intently, and for a moment, I could see the future that she was hoping for. She’d get her hands slick with lantern oil and laugh. She’d sing her songs to the fishers, wishing them a safe trip and a hearty haul. She might not fill that dead place with life, but she’d love the ghosts there far more than I ever could. 

And seeing her so happy… maybe I could forget about them for a little bit too.

I almost gave in. Said yes. But I stopped myself. If I let her talk me into this, then she’d push and push. Missing one day would turn to two, then three, and before I knew it she’d be stuck at this lighthouse forever. 

I know she loves the lighthouse, but she’s young. She doesn’t know anything else. There’s an entire world out there she’ll never be able to see if she gets stuck here with me. School isn’t perfect, but it’ll teach her skills the rest of the world uses.  

Should she decide to work at the lighthouse at sixteen, then fine. She’ll be old enough to make her own choice.

But until then? She needs options, even if she doesn’t think she does.

The corners of her mouth crept upward as she waited for my answer; she was expecting a yes.

Maybe that’s why she looked so crushed when I shook my head.

I sent her off to school. Once she’s there, it’s hard for her to run off. She won’t come to the lighthouse tonight. She may sneak over here some nights, but she knows better than to try during the new moon. I hate calling that time sacred, but it’s the closest word I can find to the truth.

She didn’t take any of the remaining bread.

The fishers are still fine out at sea. No one’s lit their lantern yet. No one probably will for a while longer. The lighthouse is sweeping the sea as usual. I’ll have to shovel more wood into the furnace soon, but I have a few more minutes until I have to leave.

Blossom’s not strong enough to move an entire wheelbarrow full of wood on her own, but she could do it in two trips. She’d feel so helpful. She’d love to help spark that light.

We’d spend more time together that way.

Ugh…

Next time, I’ll tell her yes. She can help me. 

…Tomorrow. I’ll tell her tomorrow. She won’t shut up about it for the next month, but at least she’ll be happy.

Report from Seabreeze Shoal, Upon Arrival

Fir

Metadata

Reference Number: BICI/SSP/CRJ0402/003

Title: Report from Seabreeze Shoal, Upon Arrival

Author: Fir

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

Extent: One report, one page long

Notes: Was originally found burnt nearly beyond recognition. A version has been recreated above.

To His Eternal Warmth, O He Who Commands All The Land:

Your most faithful disciple has arrived at the designated location. And Your most faithful disciple thinks this place is kind of a dump. It reeks of kelp and fish. The border walls are poorly maintained. Why send Embers to waste their lives here when there’s so little that needs protecting? It’s not as if aberrations can rise up from the sea. 

I wonder why You chose this village. I had always thought my protege would come from a place closer to my heart. Perhaps Wolfjaw, full of my best and brightest Embers, or from The Hall of Kindling and Charcoal, where it would be a deliciously ironic choice to claim one of Scritta’s faithful for my own.

Instead, You chose this tiny village at the edge of the world. A place so remote that not even aberrations can find it. 

Actually, now that I’m thinking about it… it reminds me of the village I grew up in. Not the surroundings. Definitely not. I was shaded by deep woods and played in lovely meadows. Yet the quaintness of it brings back memories I had nearly forgotten. My village has long since been reduced to ruins, but of course Your mighty foresight would grant me a protege with a similar background to my own.

Oh, I can’t wait to meet her! I want to know everything about her. I wonder what her personality is like. Is she quiet? Boisterous? Her faith and fervor must match my own. There’s no chance You would choose a protege that couldn’t follow in my footsteps. I hope she is naturally sharp-minded and a skilled leader. But still moldable, and eager to learn. There’s so much I want to teach her.

Naturally, I will handle the other task You have entrusted to me. It’s a little cumbersome to sneak around the other Undying Embers here, but such is life. Better to blend into the crowd in the locals’ eyes than to stand out. If I made my presence known, I wouldn’t be able to get anything done. Not that a little stealth mission can’t be exhilarating.

Before I finish my other work, maybe I’ll stop by my protege’s home. A little peek can’t hurt. If she’s there, maybe I’ll even say hi! Introduce myself. She’s probably received her Spark by now, so she should welcome me. 

I will report back once my work here is done. Until then, my god-king! 

-Fir