Saturday, March 21, 2020

A Bitter Path, Illuminated - 5


Spoilers for Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers lore and locations.

Day 118
                Few times in my life have I been presented with such choice as when I stepped foot into the Crystarium’s Cabinet of Curiosities. I have read much in my time, the result of a childhood spent in one place and imagination that wished to roam, and even I doubt I could fill one of the hundreds of shelves in this seemingly endless place. I spent the entirety of yesterday wandering, poking about the books and picking at whatever interested me.
                I took a book or two for my personal perusal in the evenings, a book on the history of Norvrandt, and a more generic fantasy novel. It has been sometimes since I have read of either. The former because such details seem to have faded under the glare of light, and the latter because mother claimed I had grown far too old for such. It was enjoyable to partake in them again.
                It was somewhat heartbreaking reading the tale of the Warriors of Light again. I cannot say when you were born or what you have been told, dear reader, but be wary if ever you dare inquire about them from the elders in your community if you do not already know the tale. Aside from the Flood itself, those individuals, those who damned us to this eternity of wicked white, are likely the most despised in any annal of history you may ever find.
                Not just for their bringing about the Flood of Light, but their disappearance from Norvrandt. Far as I have ever gathered, they simply vanished. Perhaps they sought a way to fix their mistake, or they may have decided to cut their losses and flee. It would be easy to place them as having died, but I hope against all hopes that they lived. It lends credence to my own search. That is a secret between myself and you, dear reader. I would never speak such heresy to anyone else.
                Today was spent delving into the reading list I was provided by my benefactor. Niamh has assisted me in such, though far from out of personal gain. She can already travel as I seek to. Instead she claims a morbid interest in what such a thing would do to a mortal. I had not taken her for one to wish to see me meet a grizzly end, but so long as she assists me, I shan’t concern myself with her reasons.
Day 122
                I must forewarn anyone who intends to read for several days straight, for the whole of those days. After a time, all you will see is ink. On your fingers, against the pale sky, on the pavement. When I close my eyes now, I can still see symbols and etchings. I have vowed to take tomorrow to myself, lest my entire world become printed.
                I am far from a proper researcher, and as such cannot tell you if it has been all for naught or building to something grand. I have absorbed so many theories on aetheric movement and transfer, but all of it pertains to how such is done in Norvrandt. My initial plans will have to deal with addressing my findings.
                Aether in Norvrandt, per the texts, has slowed with the coming of the light. It was established years ago, but was news to me, that this is why the land has died as it has. There is simply no energy to go around. Were I to want to travel through Norvrandt to somewhere else, I can only presume the amount of aether I will be required to reach lands beyond. All of my estimations are returned absurd results.
                The second hurdle to be surmounted will be determining the method to move myself. I have found ideas and spells regarding traversal in Norvrandt, stemming past the use of aetherytes, but all of them are considered extremely dangerous. I would prefer to not gamble my life on a coin flip, or worse. And since I cannot rely on aetheryte beyond any known place, I shall have to determine an alternative method. This is where I see my benefactor being the most useful. She claimed a font of knowledge would be at my disposal, and I will be putting that to the test.
                Then there are the variables that I cannot even begin to imagine. The unknown unknowns. Those obstacles that no one has yet encountered. It was somewhat exciting to consider that I would be the first to encounter them, before I realized that I may be just one of many. It could be that I ask the impossible, and that I am falling into a similar folly as countless scholars before me. Were but there was a way to know. But I believe there is not. The only way is forward, into a dark cavern. And I know that within that cavern is a bottomless pit, that I must skirt the edge of. The final variable, dear reader, is that I do not know if there is an edge to skirt.
Day 128
                A week and a half spent reading books drew me back out to Lakeland for a day. I needed to see something beyond discolored pages and found the familiar purple hues soothing. I deliberated going back to Holminster Switch, but could not bring myself to do so. I do not know what I could possibly say to my family to describe my travels. Or even worse, I do not thing I would be able to continue with my quest were I to learn that something horrible had happened.
                Much as I was wont to leave, Holminster will forever be a soothing place to me. The familiar, and the familial. To see return and learned that those I once knew had fallen to the sin eaters would be something unbearable. I suspect that this is also why Niamh left Il Mheg. She claims it was disinterest, but I can hear it in her voice that there is more to the story. I cannot claim to know what sin eaters do with pixies, but I can only imagine it is just as unpleasant.
                We spent some time on a cliffside overlooking a lake. Sat in our shared silence. At times it feels as though we simply exist in a shared space. I cannot say truly what our relationship is. Perhaps I am nothing more to her but a bemusement. A mortal playing at the thoughts and actions of those who are something else entirely. An animal acting beyond its station. I would like to think she is here out of interest in my cause. That she too truly wishes for there to be life beyond Norvrandt. Maybe Niamh fears finding out the answer by herself. I know I do.
Day 147
                Do not fear dear reader, for I have kept away from you for naught but a lack of anything to tell. There is only so many times that I can write about the numerous books I have perused, none of which I believe you would find particularly interesting. I have kept a separate diary documenting my findings and current theories pertaining to my goal, which I plan to keep near this journal, always. Should anything occur to me, and you pick up my work as I once did someone else’s, I hope that I have done a bit of the legwork for you.
                It was yesterday that I had decided that I had absorbed all that there was for me to learn. Once I began to encounter repetition, I no longer could bring myself to stay in the Crystarium, and so I began the trek back to Eulmore to report my findings. The travel was quick, as my benefactor sent along coin to pay the aetheryte attendants, though by the time I had all my belongings in order, night had already fallen.
                A surprise awaited me, as my benefactor had planned a fine supper. She had set aside an older wine, and made sure that a good assortment of meat and vegetables were prepared. I didn’t dare ask what the entire meal would have cost, for I did not wish to faint from the shock. I expected her to break into a barrage of questions for me, but instead she listened as I recounted my findings, looking on with an eternal appearance of bemusement. There was no shock, dear reader, and I am certain she knew each detail to heart already.
                When I finished, she asked me to follow her, and we paced around the outer edge of the tower. She explained, and there is no better word for it for she spoke to me as one would a child, that there was nothing that would help me in any library across the entirety of Norvrandt. Or I presume she meant Norvrandt. She spoke of all that lay before us from that tower as the ‘First’, in a manner that carried with it the utmost amount of venom.
                With a bit of finality, she told me that only she could see my goal met. And that she would help me do such. No strings, no conditions. She wanted to assist me. In the moment, I could on fear exactly how she stated it. So coldly, so matter-of-factly.
                “If you wish to leave, I can open the door. Else, run along so that I can spend my time elsewhere.”
                She told me where I could sleep, and then left me to my own devices. I can only assume how long I stood there on that balcony, dumbfounded. Sitting here, writing in this moment, I can view it from the outside as a nonsensical claim. One that an arrogant fool, or a complete charlatan would boast. Still, I believe it.
                The clinical way she speaks, the mannerisms with which she acts. All of it feels so foreign to me. Beyond my understanding. I have met many people in my life, but none such as this. Perhaps she is from another place, perhaps she is just far more knowledgeable than I can ever believe to be.
                It both excites me and terrifies me. To know that I have found my solution makes me wish to rush straight to her and demand to be whisked away elsewhere. Yet the way she speaks chills me to my very bone. What worries me the most is that no matter how long I have debated it, I know my answer. I will accept her offer, dear reader. Against all better judgments. Against all I can feel, nay, know is wrong. I will proceed.
                It horrifies me.

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