Timaeus,


In truth, I do not know what to say. Something terrible has happened here, and I find myself grasping at straws for a solution, any solution. I suppose it is also possible that, as a soldier and adventurer, you will not understand the need to escape. I do not have the strength of a soldier. I cannot do not want to stand and fight. I used to pretend to be so brave, I know. Until just this week, in fact. I am not brave. I cannot continue looking into the eyes of the people I failed, seeing their pain and knowing that I could not save them.


I need to run, Timaeus, and if that makes me a coward, so be it. If that lowers me even further in your eyes, so be it. But help me, please. I know that asking piles the shame even more upon my head. I know that it puts you in a difficult position. I know that you do not owe me anything. But I don’t know where else to turn. If I could come to Colchis, hide away for a while, heal… Yes, the shame burns to ask. I ought to write to the Leventis instead… Yet somehow the thought of the looks on their faces hurts worse than anything you could say. You cannot disappoint me, you lost that power years ago, this is safer. As I said, you owe me nothing. Still, I don’t think I’m misremembering the kindness in your heart. Even if you do not understand, even if you think me weak, you are kind. And, in truth, I am desperate. I am haunted.


I have always admired soldiers. The courage it takes to fight for a cause, to defend against evil. Now that admiration is mixed with fear. It is not courage that allows a man to take a life. It is desperation, and I fear that I am on the brink of… Power, yes, courage. But also fear of losing, fear of death. Is it strange, to no longer fear death? Mother waits in the Fields, after all. Then again, perhaps I have not earned the right to see her again. Perhaps I should fear. I have failed so deeply, after all, fallen so far…


I don’t know why I’m telling you this. My soul is not your burden to carry, my life not yours to save. That time passed long ago, on the tides that carried you away. I did not understand for the longest time. I thought I understood the call to adventure, the endless tugging somewhere deep if my chest. And yet I still could not understand that call being strong than another tugging, the pull to stay. Now I understand that home is a gilded cage, and the gold has faded to rust and decay. To stay is to die, I am sure of it. To stay is to allow the trees to grow over my wrists and keep me here forever, forced to see echoes of my failures.

Help me run away.


Somehow I know you will never read these words. Perhaps I will never send them. Perhaps it is time the trees swallowed me. Perhaps I should let them. But her eyes, Timaeus. She apologized to me. She thought it was her fault, when it was I who could not protect her from the endless hands, the ripping skin, the stones. I have failed everyone I ever met, and her most of all. Soldiers fight. Cowards run. I froze. I froze and I do not deserve forgiveness. I cannot stay frozen in time and space any longer.


Please, help me run.

Sofia