In the long silences, this one's heart is full of grief. Only hope, or the memory of hope, lets this one hang on this long. I have fever dreams, where I see my beautiful boy as a grown man. A Baandari trader, teasing the gold out of someone's pockets in exchange for some trinket or bauble.
One day, perhaps, my Elzhar will find these little games. Know that Zayshara, your mother, even in sadness, smiled as she made them. In the dark and cold of these ruins, these little bits of magic shone light on happy memories.
You are the son of two Baandari clan traders. Travel, barter. It is in your blood, my child. It is your heritage.
May the two moons shine upon you and bring you blessings.
|Zayshara's Second Note||Zayshara's Third Note||None|