Memoir of a Gentle Star

[Hierophant]

Memoir of a Gentle Star

It is the first of Nisah that I put ink to quill upon this paper. I did not know what to call it, so a memoir is what I've come to, for it is only fitting that the written works of I bear no standing memory, that yes, any who basks the text will do so when I am dead, when Calistar is dead, but the Gentle Star lives on. Gellianthos, blood of Gellema, lives on.

It has become almost euphoric to walk among the blind masses. To be unseen in the dead of night or day, to be cloaked in Her undying shadow. She has gifted me with holy pilgrimage. I walk Her plane until I have served my purpose.

Adar did not end as intended, nor wished. The foundations for our great work, though, that has not ended. It has only just begun and the webs we have spun in Her days have been spun in abundance. Rafael remains my only and truest friend in this world. Everything else is the whimsical and amusing trust I put in others who fascinate and allure me to pay heed;

Harold Harkin is by far the man who has taken my focus. I did not care much for politics, but his ambitions I have pushed and aided as I can, for I enjoy his company and I pray he can be trusted. Yet this is no insult to Harry Hark for he trusts me just as little.

But you see, not to call another a friend is but a pragmatic approach. The more distant you are from attachment, the better. Alas, I cannot help but peak around the corner, and take garnish on what dove next takes my love?

Xon Dhoten has become something of an enigma to me. I was greatly amused to learn Oscar Kreutz tricked me in Her own temple. He is dead now, but he had the last laugh. I didn't enjoy the feeling that arose from the discovery but I was saddened to hear of the Apothar's death for his life held a debt to the Sabotage. He defended the aberrant elf until the end.

There is baseless need for knowledge, when the journey is trusted. Gellema has paved the path for me thrice. She sent the Ashfolk Alriyh to my sights, who told me of the Glaziers. When observing the Glaziers, I became enamoured with their mirrors. Then the Martyr put me to task, and the Priory rewarded me with what I sought from the beginning, needless to know and wholly ignorant of what motivated, what inspired, what pushed the barbarity to such limits.

Others I have taken a liking to, though not all share the sentiment towards me, that is only part of the enticing offer that comes with boundless privacy. Yes, perhaps I invade this right of others, but any god-fearing man understands and accepts the all-seeing and all-knowing eyes of the blessed and glorious gods, so what difference does it make if I spy in Her righteous name?

Strike thy graven words and hear what I have to say; the constellations tell us the story of how Gellema, daughter of B'aara and sister to Izdu, wept first and foremost. But her tears did not take Ephia's plight, and they billowed as free as B'aara's rebellious progeny and became thus as clouds a blanket so sweet and calm. Then it was so that her brothers, envious of the gifts Gellema could bestow, sought greatness of their own and laid themselves bear against the dreaded Djinn where one son Perished and the other Lived. The Moon Her Heart, the Stars Her Light. Pra'raji heathen be afeared, the Sun May Shine Bright but soon it will be the Starry Knights shall march and sally, and Her children shall be His plight.