[A Letter from Son to Father] [//Possible DM reply but not expecting anything]

[Runic]

[A letter finds its way through the sealed gates of Baz'eel, be it through the ships sailing the canals, or dropped overhead by a chicken in flight. Somehow it makes its destination. A small blacksmiths shop, slowly succumbing to the lack of ringrunning trade. The letter smells of a freshly opened book, and the faint whiff of ozone.]

Baba,

Know that I recall the final words you spoke before my flight.
"For what reason has B'aara have cursed me with such a wretch for a son? A monster incapable of even a smile."

I recall the way you looked at me when Mama died, and I could not find a tear to shed.

I recall the anger in your words when I said I wished to work with fabrics, to place metallurgy second in my skills.

I recall the many ways you think I failed you. Likely moreso now than even then. I have come to understand how you must have felt. My emotions are more open in these recent days, but know now that they ache with the pain you had caused me in return. This letter is not one to open old wounds, though I expect in some capacity it will.

Recently I died. I stood before the Gates to paradise, cradled in the Martyr's embrace. It was only through divine miracle that I remain alive to write to you. Death's gaze averted to another. A brother martyring himself for a brother, as in the tales of Kalim and Gamil.

My recovery is slow. That again, is not the reason for my writing this, nor is it a clamour for return. I will likely never return to the Jewel. It is no longer my home. My home is here, within the Wellspring of Ephia.

The purpose of this letter is healing. Something I now do after my brush with the other side, and something we both aught do. Some part of me must love you, for you are my Baba, and so I will forgive the misunderstandings we once shared, the words once spoken, and the looks once given. I wash my hands of the past, and look only now to the future. If I do not hear back, it will have at least cleared my own conscience.

Please tell my sisters I think of them. I pray their lives are filled with sweet mercies. That they have happy homes, filled with laughter and joy. It is something I am coming to learn now, joy. Each day I find more of it, and pray you do too.

Your son,
Zain