Translated from Keòen to Kevian by Lore Hieldin
One October the 14th, in the 41st year of the reign of Kalo Freloch [1161]
Today, as I sit in my house, my young son sleeping in the bed within my view, I recollect the events of the night past. Today was mostly uneventful. Iaso is feeling much better and I saw him in the Law Hall this morning with sweet young Aio sitting in his arms and Akèli—her tired eyes the only sign of the previous night’s struggles—sitting with her head on her husband’s shoulder. It’s times like these when I realize how close we come to losing Iaso and how grateful we are that he escapes from the clouded nightmares hidden in his mind to return to us with a smiling face.
I looked over at him sitting there with his wife and son and our eyes met. He put his hand to his heart and bowed his head as a symbol of his eternal gratitude for my efforts to help him. As I look at him, a fresh and deep cut glistening red on the left side of his cheek near his eye, his eyes sunken and vacant, his expression blank, I can’t help but wonder how many can see past his appearance and feel of his dominating aura of good. What he lacks in physical appearance he negates with his ingenious ideas, quick wit, and charming friendliness. He is a good man, one with a great talent oft overshadowed by his cursed and imperfect body. I cherish my deep friendship with such a wonderful soul.
Last night, after a trying and frustrating evening, I retired to my house in the late hours; long after the sun had set. In a mindset of frustration, my soul ached for my dear Iaso who was struggling yet again with the ailment that stole away much of his judgment and mind. He fell yet again into another nightmarish vision of spectacular thought and image and had been anticipating it all day long. My latest potion is no doubt working but cannot stop everything, much like the stopper to the pipe that supplies water to the greenhouse on campus cannot stop all of the water that rushes forth with all its might. The aura of this one was very dark and fearful indeed. As he tried to describe to us what he was seeing he couldn’t get the words out so he feverishly grabbed at a pen and tried to sketch some sort of representation of the nightmare unfolding in his mind. We all stood by, recording as much as we could of his state of being, some growing fearful and others standing stone-faced, conditioned to his bizarre display. I was so hoping it wouldn’t turn to the loss of control that seemed to come so often now and he seemed to be coming back to us but then his burdened body was forced to surrender to that greater ailment and with a cry he was thrown back, his entire being like a stone. We were too late to reach him and the side of his head once again brushed forcefully against the shelving against the wall, creating a fresh new wound to add to his scarred appearance.
Those not used to this frightful scene ran out of the room while others looked on, their mouths covered with their hands in horror, as those conditioned to Iaso’s ailment ran forth to protect him from his surroundings. Being near the door, I kicked the threshold in anger and frustration. I truly hate seeing my good friend being stolen by something so evasive to help. No longer does this horrific scene shock me; it only angers me and pushes me to do more to find a potion that will cure him. Patience is the only aura that can make this terrible scene bearable and just my presence is enough to invite the aura of comfort into the room. After what feels like an eternity, Iaso is finally and eerily still and he is taken out in the arms of Eolan to my house where we quietly lay him on the cot and work to bandage his bleeding temple. I skillfully and carefully apply a numbing ointment to the deep wound which instantly stops the bleeding and will take away a lot of the sting when he awakens. While he sleeps here we also bundle him in blankets to prepare him for the cart ride back to his house. With his wife walking at my side, everyone is solemn and blank; we look like a dark procession of death underneath the starry night as Iaso lies on the cart, not moving a muscle. We carefully lay him on his bed and Aio, just a year old, sleeps nearby, watched by his grandmother who eyes us with pity, a look of earnest well-wishing on her face. As we turn to leave, I hand Akèli a small bottle with a new potion I have made to have him try the next morning. She manages a small smile as we retire into the night and I return home unhappy.
As I prepare myself for sleep, I walk out into the moonlit night, my dearest Naidel sleeping peacefully; Jeffrey asleep on his bed, unaware of what has just taken place earlier in the medicinal room of our house, being conditioned to all manner of people from Aranel to Iaso and beyond to anyone needing aid and barely opening an eye to the commotion. My soul is rent with anguish and I need to talk to someone specific.
Looking into the twinkling stars in the cold October night, I close my eyes and slip into the Realm, an immediate wave of warmth and peace overcoming my tired and burdened body. Opening my eyes, I am greeted by the familiar blue-lit cobblestone floors that stretch out in every direction. The aura of this place is one of warmth and peace and I head straight for the Gatherer’s Hall.
Upon arriving, I am greeted by the familiar alley of tall buildings alive with souls of living Terabikai and of all souls past. I make my way down the lovely avenue towards the majestic castle upon which Terabi resides. Entering the palace gates I stop to admire the lovely gardens aglow in many colors; the familiar blue glow radiating from all around. I slowly ascend the marble steps to the tall doors and with a wave of my hand they slowly open, exposing a very long hallway with a massive, vaulted ceiling. Ornate statues line the walls, alternating with pillars, and square windows the size and shapes of various portraits line both walls. This is a place I have been before; it is called by us the Hall of Windows. Here, we can communicate to anyone in Osai’s Realm of Vision. This place is especially made good use of by those who have died who have promised loved ones that they will always be in their dreams. It is also the place for those departed, as well as living Terabikai, to give counsel or warnings to those they love. As I look around I see a number of people looking through one of the many windows, quietly conversing with an ethereal face on the other side of the glass.
I continue onward, down the Hall of Windows, until at last I reach the clear door made of bright blue power that leads to the throne room. All initiates visit this room in their youth as it is here where they are given their weapon of Lovelight and taught in the ways of its use. Today I am in pressing need to talk to a powerful friend, my master himself. I stand tall at these double doors, glowing and almost alive, and kneel, bowing my head and placing my right hand over my glowing heart. As I do so, I feel an aura of great warmth and love and the doors slowly open. As I walk through, there in the middle of the room is the man I seek. He stands tall, his long, black hair framing his Catin face. His dark eyes glow white with his mark and his white robes emit a blue glow that carries the aura of his soft smile far beyond his physical being. In his right hand he holds a tall staff made of the same blue Lovelight that composes all of our weapons used to fight the cursebearers of the Realm.
As I walk closer to him, he lowers his chin as a sign of compassion and humility. Stopping a few paces from him, I draw my blade and take my stance, as is the ritualistic greeting of Terabikai in the Realm. He pulls his staff from the ground and holds it in both hands releasing a small flash of light with which I block skillfully with my sword. With this, he smiles and says, in a clear voice, “Mera Visi!” and returns his staff to the glowing blue of his chest. I do the same with my blade and, my hands together, whisper, “Terabi…”
“What brings you to my Realm this night?” he asked me.
I couldn’t hold it back and as I stood, looking into his eyes glowing with perfect and eternal compassion, I told him everything that had transpired from early morning until the moment I could finally go to the Realm. The whole time, Terabi didn’t move a muscle, waiting for me to finish. When at last I concluded my thoughts he simply nodded and held out his hands. Nothing was more inviting and I meekly walked up to him, embracing him. As soon as our beings connected I felt an immense power greater than my own which gave me newfound strength and comfort instantly.
After that, I asked him what I could do in my eternal quest to find the right combination of herbs that could possibly help Iaso and so many out there like him. We talked for hours within the walls of his throne room as we discussed my findings so far and things I could try and do. The most welcome thing that he did was give me comfort and strength with renewed patience to face the terrible affliction that my dear friend was born with. He suggested an area in Ardin that I have not yet visited which was home to some unique flora I would likely find useful. As our much needed and appreciated meeting drew to a close, I thanked him again for his love and for choosing me to be his servant in the lands of Jadali who would help shine a clear light on the lives of the Terabikai. Thank you, Terabi, for everything.
I am thankful tonight is of a completely different mood. As I conclude this journal covering the past two days I am in awe at how fast things change and how much people strengthen through their trials. May life go on in celebration of all things—good and bad—that shape us. I bid thee Nos Wha [good night].
From my pen,
Mera Visi
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