A Bitter Path, Illuminated - 6

Spoilers for Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers locations and lore.

Day 150

                In my younger years, my mother loved to describe to me the various seasons of Norvrandt. The wonderful snows of winter, the sweltering days of summer. I have never known either. On those days when the season was meant to shift, I would rush out of our home in the hopes that the entire world would have changed. I was always greeted by the light.

                I did this for years. Summer, spring, winter, fall, their various namedays were met with my smaller self rushing from my bed to meet them. I cannot say how old I was when I ceased this tradition, but I do remember the reason.

                On one such day, I sprinted outside per the usual, and was met with the expected disappointment. Other times I had simply retreated inside to continue the day as usual, but this time I lingered. Perhaps these changes did occur, I had thought, but I had not had the patience to see them. If I stayed put and behaved for a few moments longer, perhaps I would catch the world flashing white with snow or green with spring.

                Of course this did not occur, as you can surely infer. I saw nothing of the sort. What did catch my eye when I did make my way back to the house was my mother. Standing in the window, staring out at me. The moment our eyes met she looked to the sky, ashamed. The look on her face, reader, was one of pure sorrow. I cannot tell you what she was thinking, but all I can imagine now is that she watched me do this with the knowledge that I was to be disappointed forever. Mingled in with her own despair that the world refused to change. Or perhaps that is what I would feel.

                I never marked those days again. The thought of doing so haunted me, knowing that each time I had that my mother had been standing at the window, with that mortifying look on her face. Thinking on it now, I wish I could have continued that tradition. If anything, because it let me hold hope that something could change.

                Reader, I do not believe I have asked much of you thus far. If you wish to continue my journey, I have laid out my notes for you to do so. But now, I have a simple request, should you have made it this far, and not immediately used this book for kindling. Please, regardless of the value you believe this book holds, bring it to Melinda Hargrave in Holminster Switch. I am not brave enough to tell her my story directly, and can only hope that this will provide closure.

                And to you, mother. I apologize. I wish I could embrace you a final time before this journey I am about to embark on. You would talk me out of it, or I would come to my senses and realize this is all a fool’s errand. But I cannot. If I could make any plea of you, it would be to leave Holminster. Much as you would deny it, you despise the place, and how used to it you have grown. Perhaps the Crystarium, or elsewhere in Lakeland would do you as well. I cannot say.

                I cannot tell you what has become of me, for at the time of writing this, I do not know myself. My benefactor has sworn to me that when we meet today, she will ferry me away beyond Norvrandt. She could not promise when I would be able to return, and claimed that I should travel light, but supplies will be in abundance on the other side. I will find a new journal there.

                There is so much I would tell you and grandmother both, but I simply cannot find the words to do so. So instead I shall conclude with what I do know how to say. I love you both, and I swear to return.