My dearest, Kera.
No words can lessen the burden that I am about to place onto your shoulders. For that, I am truly sorry. I wish that there was some way around it—some way to take it all back—but I’m afraid that we can no longer afford the luxury of alternatives. If you’re reading this, I am gone. Murder is the most likely circumstance. Should this be the case, I urge you to pursue no justice, to exact no vengeance, and perhaps most importantly, to leave me in the ground. I can only assume what you might be thinking. Believe me; in this exact moment, no one could possibly appreciate my capacity for hypocrisy more than I. With this in mind, please understand that what I write next comes coupled not with hubris, but with as much objectivity as I could ever hope to maintain.
You are among the brightest scholars I have ever known. Your aptitude is impeccable, second only to, if not rivaling, my very own. What’s more is that you are my daughter, and never could there be a prouder father than I in all of the four kingdoms—but these magicks exceed both of us. Resurrecting you quite nearly killed me, and I had the luxury of six years’ time and a great deal more experience. “The laws of man are permeable. The laws of nature are templates.” This magick—this necromancy—adheres to laws of neither man nor beast. Indeed, I am convinced that what we’ve been toying with is the power of gods themselves, and despite sentient life’s insatiable thirst for knowledge, I believe that in this realm exists forces we are never to know.
Kera, let me go.
She slammed the book shut, letting it fall freely from her grip and back to the desk not a second after. Kera had read enough. Her father laid limp at her feet, his body contorted awkwardly around itself. As she began to clean her blade, her eyes fixated onto his glossy one, clear and without iris. The lines from his sunken brows and violently scrunched mouth wreaked havoc on his porcelain skin—and that was how the world would remember him. They wouldn’t see the man that dedicated decades of his existence to progressing theirs. They wouldn’t see the man with enough compassion to move both the heavens and hells just to make room for one lost soul. They wouldn’t see a man at all. They’d see an enemy of the state. They’d see a monster, crazed and twisted.
Kera slipped the dagger back into the confines of her cloak, her expression blank. She wished for it to all end. She wished to weep. Sadly, however, she knew better. Time was of the essence. They’d all be back before long, and there was still much to do.