The HaRT Knight Decaverse

Correspondence from the Afterlife

Letter 01

Caim Gorllewin. Approximately two months after departure.

Dear A.

The endeavor to adequately convey the essence of my present discourse has taxed my faculties to an extent that cannot be adequately expressed. My attempts have wasted a small forest's worth of paper. It is a span of nearly two months that has elapsed since H. and I embarked from the serene shores of the Isle of Afallon, embarking upon our mission of discovery. Nevertheless, precision in chronology eludes me, for beyond the Isle's confines, time's grasp upon the affairs of our realm loosens considerably. The celestial expanse above lacks the constellations which might guide us, and the sun remains steadfastly veiled, declining to bestow its radiance upon us. This peculiarity presented an extraordinary challenge, leaving H. and myself adrift, navigating through the abyssal obscurity that enveloped us for what felt like an eternity. Yet, fortune did bestow its favor upon us a mere week past.
In the distant horizon, several beacons of luminescence materialized before our eyes. With tangible direction to guide us, our course assumed a purposeful trajectory. Alas, trepidation did creep upon us when the luminous sentinels, following hours of steadfast pursuit, abruptly dissolved into the void. H. entertained suspicions that we had conjured those lights in a state of darkness-induced delirium. Cruel indeed it would have been, to be granted a glimmer of hope only for it to be wrested away in the ensuing shadows. Yet, our anxieties were allayed as the luminosity reclaimed its place after a brief interlude.
We followed the pillars again, and this time, we found land: the continent of Cladis. Herein lies the segment of my narrative that has been an arduous struggle to articulate. I am inclined to believe that this predicament arises from the dire nature of the content itself, for it necessitates an acceptance of a harrowing reality. Even the mere morsels of knowledge we have gleaned from our brief sojourn within this new realm attest to the gravity of our plight, surpassing the bounds of our most dreadful imaginings.
H. and I arrived upon Cladis' western shoreline, on the coast of what they call the Purgatory Sea. Rather than grounding our vessel upon the strand, we advanced along a river course that led us toward the nearest radiant column. Our rationale for this diversion rested in our suspicion that the very land and air had undergone a malevolent transformation. A hypothesis that any rational intellect would readily corroborate. Instead of being met with the paradisiacal tranquility one might expect, our gaze fell upon blighted arboreal forms and withered flora, devoid of vitality. Creatures of the wild were conspicuously absent, and most damningly, the souls of the lost roamed listlessly. From the depths of the Purgatory Sea, where the Shepherd King had cast them, these forsaken souls had ascended, only to fall victim to the contagion that had infested the air and the land. Thus, they transmuted into grotesque, formless entities, bereft of reason, defying the very laws of this afterworld.
Once a realm of resplendent grandeur, the afterworld, designed to embrace those valiant souls who relinquished personal contentment for the betterment of others, has now suffered an unholy transmutation. What was intended as a realm of serene reprieve has metamorphosed into a sinister phantasmagoria that infests the minds of all who bear witness, whether in wakefulness or slumber. Such horrors left me apprehensive, shrouding my heart in doubt, that perchance no solace could be unearthed within these desecrated domains. Yet, in time, our course along the river's course led us to the guiding light pillar, which concealed a startling revelation: it was, in truth, a city--a metropolis christened Caim Gorllewin. The city's populace possesses a somber countenance, yet they accorded us gracious hospitality. The city's sovereign extended his benevolence to H. and myself, offering shelter within his abode. Astonishingly, my profligate consumption of his parchment and ink has not yet soured his disposition towards our presence.
Since our arrival, we've endeavored to decipher the origin of the blight that has laid low this paradise. Our inquiries pertained to the Shepherd King's role in permitting the afterworld's degradation into the current maelstrom. Regrettably, answers have proven elusive. Nonetheless, enlightenment has not wholly evaded us.
Foremost among our discoveries is the truth that each luminous sentinel we espied during our approach to Cladis marked a settlement. To be more precise, they emanated from the mystical sigils that safeguard these communities. Our initial assessment of the land and sky's malevolent transformation, known here as “the blight,” has been substantiated. Venturing beyond the aegis of these sanctuaries invites the encroachment of the blight upon one's very being. Our comprehension, however, remains incomplete, for inquiries in this vein are met with hasty redirection. Evidently, the topic is shrouded in such profound horror that tongues falter to utter it aloud. But, my resolve and that of H. remains unswerving. The pursuit of truth, regardless of the personal toll, persists as our guiding imperative.
Thus, it is with this solemn conviction that I inscribe this epistle. Surveying the current state of the afterworld, it is increasingly likely that both H. and I shall fall to blight before we can relay our findings. Should fate consign us to such an end, it becomes imperative that you and our compatriots within the Hall are apprised of the reality that confronts us. Yet, I concede that the task of delivering these missives bewilders me. Resolving this quandary stands as another enigma awaiting my solution.

Yours in Distress and Consternation,
Amobiel