The HaRT Knight Decaverse

Correspondence from the Afterlife

Letter 11

Monk's Wood Haven. One year and two months since Ezra.

Dear A.,

The interplay of lives continues to shape the pages of my existence, and within this eternal dance, Ezra's presence remains a steadfast anchor--a testament to growth, transformation, and the bonds we forge in the most unexpected of circumstances. In my previous life, I had my fair share of pupils. In my twilight years, the monastery I had built trained over a thousand men and woman a year. And yet, never have I felt so close to a student as I do to Ezra.
Ezra's unique nature, his feral instincts juxtaposed with the teachings of compassion and honor, has presented both challenges and opportunities. His innate prowess, honed in the crucible of the blightlands, has made him an exceptional pupil. And yet, his journey toward spiritual enlightenment has been punctuated by the struggle to reconcile his primal inclinations with the virtues I strive to instill.
In the year that has passed, I have broadened Ezra's training, seeking to foster both his physical and spiritual growth. The dichotomy between his natural inclinations and the virtues I espouse has made this process both complex and rewarding. Lessons in compassion, respect, and honor--virtues that once seemed foreign to him--have taken root, as he grapples with his own nature. His upbringing within the blight has bestowed upon him a measure of cruelty, akin to a predatory animal. A subconscious division in his mind segments all he meets into one of two categories, prey or predator.
Because of this, his natural inclination when confronted with people is to prove his strength in an attempt to ward off any idea of attack.
Though, today a great opportunity to teach through example presented itself. Ezra and I were in the middle of training when the door of the Monk's Wood opened and a Shiki walked in.
I expect no one back at the Hall of Heroes will know what a Shiki is. This creature, indigenous to the lands of Cladis since the spread of the blight, originates from Birvain, a settlement nestled in the southeast of Cladis. Within these confines, a cabal of malevolent sorcerers invoke intricate enchantments upon parchment, underpinned by the sacrifice of a sextet of sole spheres and half of the sorcerer's own soul. Thus, a revenant of paper--golem-like--materializes. As incredulous as it may sound, these paper constructs belie their fragility and emerge as entities of perilous prowess. Employed often as instruments of nefarious design--espionage, thievery, assassination--the Shiki's reputation paints it with suspicion's brush. Even Ezra reacted to the Shiki's presence with a ripple of agitation. A snarl poised upon his lips and an unfaltering gaze, he approached me with an inquiry, an offer to expel this perceived threat.
At that precise moment, I saw the opportunity for a lesson. I directed Ezra to be seated, then extended a cordial gesture to the Shiki, bidding it to join us. The onlookers within the common room registered shock, their gazes oscillating between me and this entity of suspicion. Even the Shiki, seemingly perplexed by the invitation extended unto it, engaged in a moment's hesitation before accepting.
Seated opposite us, the Shiki became the recipient of my inquiry--an appeal for its tale. Allow me to transcribe a summarized account of its recitation herewith:

“I am the creation of one named Tiberius. A purpose divergent from that ascribed to most Shiki. The realm of my existence finds itself within Yomi--a city nestled in the Kingdom of the Kraken. Tiberius, a Ravenman of repute, amassed a wealth aplenty. Yet, solitude was his sole companion. An ill-fated escapade during his final trading voyage rendered him wounded and incapacitated. In the ensuing isolation, he enlisted the aid of a sorcerer, tasked with conceiving a Shiki--myself. Thus, I emerged into being. The tenure that followed was one of domestic harmony. I bore the mantle of caretaker, culinary artisan, and steward. In interstices bereft of duties, Tiberius and I engaged in games of chess and shared accounts of his life as a Ravenman. Over time, Tiberius ceased to perceive me merely as a servant; our rapport blossomed into friendship.
However, ‘all that slumbers must awaken and all that is good must pass.’ At the market, I sought provisions to craft his evening repast. During this interval, a troupe of thieves invaded his dwelling--a grandeur vulnerable in the grasp of a man devoid of fortitude. My return witnessed a tableau of despair--my friend and master lay lifeless upon the floor. I carried his vessel to the garden, setting his form ablaze to crystalize his soul in the spot where our chess games transpired, a locale suffused with reminiscence.
Obscured eyes bore witness to my tribute, kindling a rumor rife with venom. Tales propagated, recounting how Old Tiberius's Shiki had orchestrated his demise. Threats of immolation loomed as retribution--a Shiki, as you are well aware, succumbs only to fire. I appropriated my master's sole spheres and embarked on a flight from the city, swathed in anonymity. A sojourn of ceaseless wandering, as I sought a haven unmarred by trepidation and loathing. Yet, in every realm I ventured, disdain and distrust were my sole reception, and to make matters a worse, a Shiki bereft of a master invokes only further dread.”

As the Shiki recounted its narrative, I noted the spark of empathy and understanding that ignited within Ezra, serving as a microcosm of his broader spiritual journey. comprehension unfolded upon Ezra's countenance. The realization dawned--life is rife with tribulation, and the essence of respect lies not in vulnerability but in the acknowledgment of each soul's clandestine struggles. This lesson, comprehended with finality, resonated through Ezra's being.
To ensure clarity's triumph, I proffered the Shiki an offer of residence within the Monk's Wood. An offer extended further, to provide it with gainful occupation. My conviction rests in the belief that Ezra's continued communion with the Shiki will provide an avenue for growth--a vessel to nurture his comprehension of the multifaceted tapestry of existence.
The journey that Ezra and I continue to traverse--a journey that transcends temporal boundaries and the confines of the afterworld--is a testament to the enduring nature of human connections. Our interactions, though seemingly fleeting within the vastness of eternity, have sculpted the contours of our souls--a reminder that even in the realms beyond life, the bonds we forge continue to shape the fabric of our existence.

Yours,
Amobiel