Woven in the Dark

My Dearest Eirwyn, I never thought I’d say these words, but I fear you were right all those years ago. We’re fighting a battle no one can win. Every day, more lives are swallowed by a madness none of us can truly grasp, all at the whim of a man who fears death more than anything. His obsession with immortality and reshaping the world fuels him—bending magic to his will, crushing anyone who stands in his way. He doesn’t just crave power; he wants to reshape the very fabric of our world, to see all others cower beneath the control of Enchanters. He would turn everything we’ve known into something dark and twisted. And now, his gaze has fallen on my son. My SON. Cass dismisses my fears, as always. He tells me I’m overreacting, that we’ve nothing to fear with the Order’s protection. But deep down, Wyn, I know the truth. I see it in the way Gosse smiles at us, as though we’re pieces on his chessboard. I thought I could trust him, but now... I don’t know. He asks too much of us. Of me. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more at play here than we understand, more than Belenus’s thirst for power. Sometimes it feels like the Order isn’t just fighting to stop him but to shape something else entirely, something none of us have truly agreed to. The Order feels more like a machine grinding toward some unknown end, with Cassius at the heart of it. He’s so devoted to them—to Rowan, to his Laurentinus friends—that he can’t see what’s right in front of him. I feel like I’m slipping further away from him with each passing day. And Gosse… there’s something in his eyes, Wyn. Something calculating. He tells us we must sacrifice, that the true world demands it. But I wonder now—who’s world are we truly serving? I’m not meant to survive this, Wyn. The choices we made—what feels like a lifetime ago—have written my fate. And Cassius, for all his good intentions, doesn’t see it. He clings to the Order like it’s the only thing that matters, but I fear it’s become more important to him than me. Then us. I’ll be condemned, if that’s what it takes to ensure my children live. There’s something I’ve hidden from you, and though it pains me to keep this secret, I don’t regret it. We have a daughter. Born in the dog days of '24. She has your eyes, your fire. Cassius knows she is yours. He wasn’t pleased, of course, but he extended the protection of the Ariel’s to her, for when she eventually enters the True World. But Gosse convinced him—convinced us—that it would be too dangerous for you to know, too dangerous for anyone. I wasn’t even allowed to raise her. My heart aches as I think of her. I fear she might one day resent me for giving her away, for not being there to watch her grow. I hope she’ll understand that it was done out of love and necessity, though I know it’s a heavy burden to bear. And Damian… I worry for him as well. If the worst comes to pass, if Cassius and I are gone, if Rowan falls with us, I don’t know where he’ll go. Perhaps the Levigne’s, but my deepest fear is that he’ll end up with Clementine. I can’t bear the thought of him growing up in a home filled with her resentment, her fear and hatred of magic. He would suffer under her bitterness, shut off from the world that should be his. It breaks my heart to think of what kind of life he might have, unloved and misunderstood, his magic suppressed. Eirwyn, I’m terrified. The shadows of our world are closing in, and I feel like I’m running out of time. Every decision I’ve made has been for them. I hope, one day, they’ll understand why I did this. Why I made these choices. And I hope you’ll understand too, Eirwyn. I can only pray that you won’t hate me for it. I don’t know what will become of us, but I had to tell you the truth. I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again. But know that, through it all, I loved you. And in another life, perhaps things could have been different. With all my heart, Mirabelle