Dearest Eirin,

I write this, knowing that you spent the day with me. What need have I to tell you of what happened on this quest we spent together? But there are things I wish to say, things I was unable to express to your face.

There are some things I wish to say that are difficult to say when there are others around, as you have indicated that such pointed pronouncements are unwelcome in a crowd, especially one as loud as Crenia and Ceres make it.

We had planned this adventure days in advance, though I had thought we were planning to go with your sister rather than that fool magician. I never heard her reasoning for why she sent Ceres in her wake, but I did not know him then, and barely know him now, and she has told me before that she knows me far too well.

Though it was the morning of our quest, I awoke far too early, likely excited that we would be together again, and so I chose to venture through the dungeons on my own. Crenia often falls asleep studying in that tower that she’d found, and I thought it prudent to make sure that she was ready for the puzzles of today - as you well know, she is much stronger at solving puzzles than I, as I usually just know the correct answer without ever asking “why.” It just works, but that’s rarely satisfactory for the rest of those I’m with. I would prefer to just move on, to bring you to the actual places of importance, but I understand that some might find it boring if they’re never able to act part of the “experience” or whatnot.

I digress. I went to fetch Crenia, only to find that she was already awake. She claimed to have slept, but also wanted to show me something that was odd, and strange, and nearly magical - or so she claimed. Something she had noticed, and wished my opinion. She pointed to the fields near the tower, eyes a little more crazed than normal, but not worryingly so. 

“What do you see?” she asked, and I would have guessed she was nearly an elder near death by how rough her voice sounded.

I peered through the window, though, truthfully, I did not see what made her so excited at first. “I see the field, and bones, and near-crows, and flowers. Nothing unusual for this time of year.” Perhaps I sounded dismissive, but I truly did expect that she would have already been aware of all the Harvester’s pets and machinations. I suppose she’s only been studying in the underground tower for a short time, that perhaps she had been buried so deeply in the rotting books of her religion she calls “magic” that she had never seen the works and wars that leave scars in the phantom soil. 

She pushed me, rather roughly, her tail whipping against the ground as though she had a right to be agitated. “The flowers, though - I heard them last night. I heard them, and they were screaming as they killed each other, over and over again. Do you know what causes that?” She leaned in close enough that I could see the spittle fly from her neglected lips. “Magic.” She seemed entirely pleased with the announcement, as though it was a revolutionary concept.

I stared at her, perhaps without giving her the accolades she so clearly deemed her just reward, so she just scoffed, grabbing her gear and beginning her descent. Perhaps silence was the best option - if I had shown interest, she would likely still be spitting about it to this hour.

As we made our way back to the surface, I could hear her mumbling to herself, though I’m sure she thought she wouldn’t be heard. “That is magic, not whatever parlor trick Ceres has come up with. ‘Oh, I can make twinkly lights, Crenia’ and ‘Look, I can make fire dance, Crenia.’ Once I figure out how he does that, he’ll never be able to even think the word magic again.”

“Crenia,” I said, gently though loud enough to be heard, “You know that Ceres is coming with us today, correct? Diarin sent him to help us light the way.”

Her ears went flat against her dark skull, accompanied by a snort of derision. “That’s why I’m bringing Mana,” she spat out, gesturing at the small creature floating near her shoulder, acting for all the world like an illuminated jellyfish. It had been useful in the past, true, but the caverns can be cold and I thought Ceres’ fire might keep the chill from you if you deemed it inappropriate for me to keep close enough to send my own through you, but I held my tongue. Any argument and we likely would have been late to be of any assistance to either you or Ceres.

We eventually did find the both of you, Ceres parading in front of what was likely his own reflection and you watching in what I would call sainted amusement. He smiled widely when he saw us, and he gave a dashing bow. “Lovely ladies, allow us to accompany you on your feats of greatness. We are but your humble servants, lowly and crass when compared to such goddesses as yourselves.”

You’d offered a pity laugh that sounded impressively real, while Crenia snorted derisively and pushed her way through the entrance. Ceres winked in your direction, and you placated him with a giggle, before he trotted after the purple scholar. 

“You’re spending time with Crenia?” you’d asked me as we walked side by side.

I didn’t think it was that unusual, as she was one of the few I choose to talk to, and we had need of her today, but I hope you heard the conviction in my voice as I responded, “Only when it allows me to more freely speak to you.” Crenia is, ultimately, someone I know does not want to take you away from me, as well as someone who has no wish to hurt you. If she hadn’t been there, Ceres likely would have spent the time showing off for you, and nothing would have been accomplished. We’d likely still be at the doors, waiting for someone to choose.

But I get ahead of myself, ahead of the narration - we eventually made it to a fork in the road, with doors that told us lies. It was rather obvious which door to go through, but Crenia and Ceres enjoyed arguing about it so I permitted them to be the ones to make a decision. “Do you have a guess, Lady Eirin?” I asked you, offering you the chance as well, so as to not cause you to feel left out.

You’d approached the left, far closer than I really thought was safe, and bravely asked the face, “Why do you smile so?” It looked to me more a grimace of pain than a smile of joy, but your mind works in such wondrous ways.

 The voice was slow to come, moving with all the force of tectonic plates. “I smile because I know those who walk through my door will be happier on the other side, for always and evermore.”

You’d offered it a smile of your own, though, though it did not deserve the kindness, and went to talk to the others.

Of course, you are wise and able to talk to any you wish, but why… why, when I was the one who asked, did you go to the others to give your answer? I was left alone, bereft, but I know that my weaknesses and failures are mine only. I only wish to know how better to serve you, to support you, to help you know that I am here. For you to trust with the secrets you feel you have.

As we have not perished yet, it was the correct door, but the reason Ceres argued with was incorrect on several counts, not the least that it assigned morality to the ageless, but we are here, and I am able to send this to you. I just thought it should be pointed out, so that you may be aware and not be swayed by something so costly in the future.