Final Letter from Crown Prince Sieldon Anon – VW3
It is with every vestige of hope left in my soul that this letter reaches you alive and well. I am aware that both of us know this will be my last correspondence.
Tel-el-Anon has fallen , and my short slips of sleep are haunted by the beautiful city’s death. No doubt you are still upset about the rather rough and abrupt removal of mother and yourself from the city by the Awakened, but I believed, and I still do that if humanity has any hope for survival it will be under your just and wise leadership. You did well to raise me the warrior prince, and I hoped to pass those lessons onto my son, your grandson. You will have that responsibility father, and I trust you will raise him as well as any could. Tell him stories of his brave family and help Aesha through the difficult years.
I saw her father. I saw the creature responsible for all this death and destruction, broken families and ruined dreams. Last night as I stood on the walls of the palace looking out over the burning city, she appeared out of the night. The demon-bred storm which flung water so hard that our sentries had to be rotated every half-candle mark or be unable to function, which was flooding what little food stores we had, simply stopped for her. Alone, unarmed, clad in silk which did little to hide her beauty, she approached the Gates of Trenashin. As she approached I could feel her gaze stripping my soul bare father, and I will be honest: it was then that I knew there was no hope. Kulzor, the Ambassodar from the dwarves stood the parapet with me. You know the dwarven hate for the Fey father, but even his eyes wept at her wild beauty.
She walked towards those gates and simply brushed her fingertips across them, and in the deafening silence we heard the massive locks move in their home, the crack of wood as the Gates swung open. The Gates which had held the mad Godling Theasle at bay long enough to be defeated. The Gates which had stood since the founding of Tel-el-Anon opened, and she walked into the courtyard. The soldiers stood still, awed and horrified to near senselessness. Then, in a soft voice which causes my heart to hurt still, she told us we had two days and we would all be killed. Two days and the battle would be over. She simply walked out again, leaving the gates open behind her, and disappeared into the night. I am sure Shauder, her devil-consort, was waiting for her return. That was last night.
As I am writing this Kulzor is making plans for our last stand. We have been unable to seal the gates again, and there are not many of us left. Many have simply taken their own lives before the coming battle, leaving few of the Royal Guard and several woodrunners. I am sorry, Lord Tren died last week during one of the battles. The weapon-master will be missed. The six remaining members of the conclave have clostered themselves away in the library. They claim to have discovered a way to end the war, but more likely it a simple spell that will allow them to escape the coming doom. I can expect little more from the selfish cowards, and so far their attempts have been overwhelming failures.
The sword and armor of Anon are hidden father, so securely that I doubt that they will ever be found again. If by chance our house steps on these tiles again, reach for hope, because it will guide you to our history.
Kulzor is at my door now, telling me that the six are calling for me. He keeps muttering something about a shroud. I will wait for you at the gates of paradise father. Save our people.