Till Morning

 

I don't want any of you to think I live with a perpetual rage inside me, my darlings. It isn't so. That anger is only a part of me. A crucial part, it's true. But still only an aspect. This anger is only ever directed at the Fallen. Those sadists who lack all compassion. It's never intended for my friends and loved ones. Never. I say this because I often walk in silence, letting my art speak for me, and I'm aware my art can be a fierce, passionate thing. I don't want to be misconstrued. Not where your hearts are concerned. The world seems a very dark place sometimes, it's true. Especially to me. Once a tired little boy hunting monsters. In both the forests and the cities. I'm a grownup now, battered and scarred, but I'm still doing much the same. 

In the old world the line between poet and prophet was far less distinct. If a child possessed sight enough to witness glimpses of the unseen, they often became a spiritual guardian of their tribe whether they wanted to or not. The burden of vision. It sounds noble and romantic, of course, until hideous things from the shadow-realms come knocking – and you become the first line of defence. Often the last line too. I'm not looking for sympathy here, or trying to make my life seem grander than it is. But these words are filled with truth, unfortunately. These have been the very real burdens of my life – burdens that almost drove me to the point of oblivion. And they would have, if not for Ioana's warmth, Esme's cherished memory, and Kara's shining lantern. These things: love, devotion and kisses, they saved me. Healed me. And I’m deeply, truly grateful. 

I've known many of you before, in other lives and other worlds. I know that's difficult for some of you to believe, dear ones. But it's true. I can feel it in my heart. And the heart never really forgets a kindness, or a mutual alliance. So, I write these words now because I don't want to be misunderstood. I really don’t. My wrath, or the wrath of my spirit, shall never be intentionally directed at those I care for. Please know that. Sometimes souls drift apart, separated by an agonising distance. But where there is mutual affection there is always connection, regardless of space or time. It's no coincidence that we meet, my darlings. That we form friendships, relationships. We carry each other's burdens and ease each other's struggles. 

Whoever you are, it's not blind chance that you formed a bond. We always get to choose how far we walk with another soul, how deeply we invest in them. How far our fondness will reach. And that's okay. We are sovereign. But there is a far larger plan at work, believe me. A far greater mystery. I've only seen glimpses of that mystery, but I remember the signature of your souls and how sweetly they moved me. Bethel stones, laurels and lanterns. Or the dawning borealis. These things I treasure. I tried to leave signs for you in my work, long before you ever met me. I tried to let you know that you are cherished. By me and by something far, far greater. Our Father. Creation's infinite intelligence. A loving, nurturing flame. I hope I've succeeded, at least in part. 

Please forgive me if my travels through the depths made you mistake my passion for a lack of care. I care deeply about all of you. It's why I write these pages and craft these visions. Some of us were lovers once, and others the best of friends. This affection is still so powerful. Especially to me. I see your nuances and the depth of your kindness. It kindles my heart, restores my mind, and heals the broken boy in me. A boy who was once convinced that he would die bleeding and alone in the forests of an endless imagination. This is Raj talking, not the curious angel within. I want to thank you all sincerely for caring about me even a little, and for lighting my path on this journey. I hope I can continue repaying the kindness for each one of you.