Work Text:
As written by Renly Featherweight [1], for the publication of this third edition, in the year 1340 A.S.
It is, perhaps, fitting that the successor to the legendary Book of Rites is no book at all. After all, according to myth, that book was bound by the Scribes so that none save the ever-reclusive Volfred Sandalwood and his equally mysterious companion, the Reader, had the ability to glean its contents. This collection imposes no such barrier; it reveals its truth to anyone who looks. And why should it not? It comes from hands whose great work was liberation, in all its forms.
It is a shame, then, that few other remnants of this time have been unearthed. Given the Commonwealth's laws, the gaps in the record may always be vast. Many of my colleagues lament that the literacy ban has, in time, proven one of the greatest cruelties of the Commonwealth—a loss stretching far into the future.
Still, in that time and in this one, people lived on. And though their way of preservation may have been less than ideal, preserve they did. This motley collection, less hidebound than a hide sack (with bits sticking out), was carried up only by a messenger imp who thought it looked like secrets. Perhaps it was. For how much, if any, did they expect to survive? Certainly, it presents no great myth, though mythic figures are present. No star-ordained ritual lies within these pages, though references are made to their ending. There is no reason why this should be what remains of the Fall of the Commonwealth.
My colleagues express disappointment, though understanding, with what we have found. But I, for my part, consider it a miracle. Why should this be what remains of the Fall of the Commonwealth? It is why anything remains: because it is in our nature to preserve what is ours, even in the darkest of times, and pass it on.
AN OLD DRAWING
As doodled in charcoal on hideskin. It depicts ten figures beneath the lost stars of the Scribes. It is, by all astronomical accounts, a stunningly accurate rendition of the constellations, though perhaps not of those mythical companions who followed them.
A STRANGE METALWORKING PROJECT
As forged by an amateur. Likely meant to represent medals of honor awarded to Bloodborder veterans, but distinctly lacking the governmental legitimacy of such. Small fingerprints have stuck in the metal. Condition: well-worn.
HEDWYN’S MESSAGE
As delivered by messenger-imp, in the first weeks of the Sahrian Union.
Jodariel,
As you’ll have hopefully heard by now, the Plan succeeded. Not as smoothly as Sandalwood would have liked, of course, but it’s like you always said: every fight we make it out in one piece is a good one. I wished you were there I know you were there, in spirit. We will always be fighting side by side, even if I could not keep my old promises.
How is everyone? Fae is doing well, here. She is trying to teach Fikani how to dance (Fikani is very excited). I once asked her if she had taught anyone else, in the Downside, and she mentioned you, old friend…
THE BOG-WITCH’S RECIPES
As written on torn parchment. Some believe that followers of Milithe deliberately fragmented their knowledge, committing only half of it to record and holding the other half in their minds. Others believe that the Nightwings’ legendary crone, being at this time 400 years old, simply couldn’t be bothered.
1/2 salamander’s tongue
Bone (take ye not from the carcass of Bialanthius…the flow of centuries from Jomuer’s spring wash not the stain of dung from the marrow…)
Pinch of stardust
Brew under full moon in the glade of Lu Sclorian. (Must study the effects of lost stars on potency?)
TI’ZO’S WRITING PRACTICE
As scrawled on the remarkably-intact carcass of a fish. Alas, while the carcass is very obviously a fish, the writing is not quite as obviously words. It seems at this point Ti’zo was still learning.
LEDGERS
As written on a piece of driftwood, which was then splintered into seventeen pieces and hidden away in a small pile.
Moon Crest - 15
Flame Leech - 30
Lucrative Contract - 5
Tailwind Crest - 8
Jomuer’s Fang
Gol’s Bracer
Khaylmer’s Anklet
- Ron price change?
- New currency conversion?
- how much do new wheels even cost???
See also: The Business of New Business: Mercantile Models in the Early Sahrian Downside (R. Dalbert - Greentail College of Economics, 1336)
—
A NOTE FROM PAMITHA
As written on a piece of parchment.
Darling, as fun as it has been to watch the others squirrel their own secrets away, I thought you might want to know your stash of love poems is at risk of becoming…well, communal.
A NOTE FROM JODARIEL
As written on the same piece of parchment.
I have no love poems.
CONTINUING THE CHAIN
Now a veritable correspondence.
That is a pity and a shame, truly, darling. I rather thought that handsome demon had taken a shine to you…? You are out rather late these days, training your merry little band.
(NOT) DIGNIFYING THAT WITH A RESPONSE
This goes on for a while.
You must have better things to do than to needle me about my romantic life, little bird.
Flying about the Downside alone loses its charm eventually. There are only so many times I wish to reminisce on my regrets over the skeletons of Titans.
Come home, then. To the blackwagon. Since you are comfortable enough rooting around in its contents.
My, how forward.
I will punch you.
Now, now, we spent all that time trying to undo the years of bloodshed and enmity. I’d hate to think of bothering poor Fae up there with another war, especially as she’s trying to teach the one Hedwyn chose how to dance. Speaking of—I heard you were once a student of hers?
—
A MESSAGE TO RUKEY
As drafted by the Reader, unsent.
Rukey,
I hope all is well, and that you are not getting into too much trouble while they are trying to establish the government. Ron says hello, of course (his dad is coming down with something, though I suppose you have earned the right to escape the details). We—that is, Jodariel, Ti’zo, Bertrude, and me—are headed back to Bloomingpool to forage for Bertrude’s ingredients, and check in on anyone we find along the way. I remain unclear as to what, exactly, Bertrude is concocting. All she will say is that it is “tricksy” and “ancient” and “from the pit of the bog-mothersss.” I think this means it is a magical potion?
After the Rites, Pamitha undertook her own journey through the Downside. It seems that journey, like ours, is finally drawing to an end; she has appeared more and more often at our door of late. It always puts Jodariel in a mood. I had once thought they set aside their grudges, but perhaps that was only for a common cause, while it was necessary. Still, this mood seems different than usual.
You always were the best at lifting Jodariel’s spirits—do you have any advice
and also do you know how much these Titan-damned wheels cost to replace
and who sells blackwagon wheels in the Downside
A MESSAGE TO HEDWYN
As drafted by the Reader, also unsent.
Hedwyn,
We are just out of the Flagging Hands now, and it is just as dismal a place as when we first traveled it, with only six of us to our name. The blackwagon is…well, flagging. (Please, please, do not tell Fae. I don’t want to worry her, not yet.) At least it seems Pamitha has returned in earnest. Her moonshine has reclaimed its residence on that precarious shelf, as if to mark her place here.
She and Jodariel have a…tense relationship. When you traveled with her, did Jodariel ever
That is, the tension between the two is very quickly sliding out of one variety into
Oh, never mind
A BLANK PAGE
What appears to be a message to Sir Gilman, though the writer never put down a word, leaving only the knight’s chivalric crest at the top of the page.
—
TI’ZO’S WRITING PRACTICE
As scrawled on more fish bones. Though still not the Sahrian language, music scholars at Traverson Hall assert that this is rudimentary bardic notation, matching the style of early Sahrian hymns following the Scribes’ Return.
See also: Myth-making, religion and cultural identity: a musical analysis of the Downside (R. Nobody - Studies in Pre-Sahrian Music, 1320)
Understanding the Unwritten: the Sonic and Semantic Construction of the Drive-Imp Language (T. Swallow - Cael Journal of Linguistics, 1336)
LYRICS FRAGMENT(?) (DOWNSIDE HYMN)
As written (presumably from memory) by the Reader. A feather from Ti’zo was also found in this bundle, suggesting it was a joint, and difficult, effort.
Between the salt and roiling sea,
The moon began to cry
The stars all hide away from the chill
Until the evening Rites.
The place where Plurnes scuttled her foe
The tempest never dies
The titan [???] in shivers and shakes
A thousand years gone by.
—by Tariq, the Lone Minstrel
GIFTS, VARIOUS
A collection of pressed flowers and small trinkets such as one would offer at a shrine. An image of an old cur—possibly the father of the estimable Rukey Greentail, or that of Fae’s reluctant companion Almer Oldheart. (Scholars disagree.)
Oral accounts from the liberated members of the Nightwings, including Fae herself, describe Fae as one of the most devout. Though many of the remaining members did not hold the same faith, whether in practice or intensity, it is possible they honored the shrines in the Downside all the same, for the sake of their young friend.
See also: Rites and Rites: the role of religion for those exiled from theocracy (A. Brighton - Studies in Downside and Pre-Sahrian Religion, Vol. III, 1319)
—
A NOTE FROM PAMITHA
As crumpled into a ball, and painstakingly smoothed back out after the fact.
Reader darling, I assure you, I can handle the tension between our lovely demon and me. I appreciate the wingmanship, such as it were. But, I am a grown Harp, and all too used to living with feelings that will not quite find a home. It is, if it is not too humiliating to admit, the kind of feelings I’ve most come to expect. It makes life easier that way.
Actually, I do find that pitiable, so if you would do me a favor, Reader, and just toss this message out the window on our way past the hot springs, hmm?
MORE RECIPES
As noted on a stained scrap. Careful analysis suggests the stain was some type of stew. Perhaps this was once stored near Hedwyn’s pots?
1 pinch cinnamon
Teeth
AN IOU FROM BARKER ASHPAWS
As written on a piece of cloth, presumably torn from someone’s shirt. The words are barely legible. Possibilities: drunkenness, medium of charcoal on cloth, paws.
40 S driking conntest
N: 2 | D: 2
—
AN ENVELOPE FROM RUKEY GREENTAIL
As delivered by messenger-imp. Empty, though the wear on the paper suggests it once held something large and heavy. All that remains, however, is the letter that accompanied the more valuable (at the time) contents.
Hey old chum,
So what’s this I hear about you Nightwings losing to our old pal Barker? Really lost your edge once I high-tailed it up here, huh? He says you found him at the Ridge and tied 2-2. I’m gonna do you a solid and assume that was after the drinking contest.
But…more seriously…he says you’ve been down about the blackwagon? You could’ve written to me anytime, you know! Me and Ron, we’ve almost got enough to franchise! And what’s the point of having coin if you can’t spread it around to your best friends, right? You gave me my freedom, and nine good friends to boot. I can’t ever repay that. And don’t you go arguing with me—old Sandalwood’s teaching me his tricks, and anyway, I wasn’t the slickest negotiator in the Downside for nothing.
This should be enough to get you the parts. Though, I gotta say, we never had trouble with the wheels when we were traveling. Always figured it ran on magic. Maybe now that the stars have gone…but you’ll figure it out, old chum. You always do.
As drafted by Jodariel, crossed out to such an extent it remained indecipherable until Oralech Penheart [2] undertook its study as a thesis project.
Hedwyn,
When you found Fikani, did you ever
I fear I have made a fool of myself. This is why I limited my drink, even when we were on leave and you laughed at me.
My foundlings are convinced that Theyn and I—well, when they look at me like that, so knowingly, they remind me of you. And Ignarius, too! It is a relief that we ended amicably, but still, that does not change what he has seen of me.
I miss you, old friend. I often wonder what you would make of this.
But, then again, I do not wonder too much. I know what you would say. It is why I have not asked you.
See also: Rituals of courtship: the queerness of romances in purgatory (O. Penheart - University of Soliam, 1329)
A NOTE FROM PAMITHA
As written on a wine-stained scrap of hideskin.
Chalk it up to a night of revelry, shall we, darling? (Though, I must ask—is it a sin even here and now? To talk of the war with someone who likewise hated the bloodshed? Perhaps it is a hard habit to kick, as wanting to kiss you in the corner of the room was. But must you blame me—your damnable eyes, and memories being what they are? I didn’t want you to be alone. Did you want— ) If it’s forgiveness you seek, well, I of all people will not be stingy with it. I think it punishment enough to endure Bertrude’s hangover cure, though it worked like a charm. I should tell her as much, I know she was worried about the potency…anyway! Don’t be a stranger, darling.
PAMITHA’S DRAWING
As rendered in charcoal on parchment, a drawing of Pamitha’s liberated but estranged blood-sister, Tamitha Theyn. A caption appears below, but has been blacked out, save for Tamitha’s name.
—
As delivered by messenger-imp, to the Reader of the Nightwings. Scholars such as Kasav Aristoches [3] point to this letter as both proof and origin of the lost Codex.
My kin,
You speak of a faltering of the blackwagon. This pains me to hear, but it does not surprise me. Recall from the book, my kin, that the Scribes believed carriages could run off the fury of the land. But now that the stars have died, the fury has died, too, a little. It is what we fought for, of course, an end to the fury. Still, it requires an arduous amount of change, and I regret that this burden too has been placed on you. You must find another power source, or leave the blackwagon behind.
Though here the newborn Sahrian Union continues apace, I wish to open another matter of future importance: that of our historical record. You know well that anything we build here cannot last unless we, all of us, learn well from our past; and how can we learn if half of that past is lost to the sands of the Downside? Oralech and I are overseeing efforts here, of course, with our literacy programs. I am taking down the accounts of the Nightwings and any liberated exile who will speak with me. But you must be the one to record and keep the stories of those who remain. Safeguard those precious lessons which will light the way for those after, when—I say when—we at last bridge the gap between our people. It will not be in our lifetime. Still, I believe it is worth it. I believe it is necessary.
Yours in friendship,
Volfred Sandalwood
See also: What Lives On: The Present Absence of Sandalwood’s Lost Codex in Historical Study of the Sahrian Union (K. Aristoches - University of Sandalwood, 1337)
A NOTE FROM PAMITHA
As written on a tiny piece of parchment, tucked between two larger sheets of paper.
You are avoiding me, darling—so completely and terribly you have abandoned the communal stash. Well, then, I suppose you won’t mind if I tuck a confession in here, would you? You will never see it, and I—I wish to lighten the things I am carrying, where I can. I cannot rid myself of these feelings by writing them down, but perhaps it will make them easier less painful less lonely less.
HEDWYN’S RECIPES
As transcribed by Hedwyn and Fikani Shang and delivered by messenger-imp. The paper is still slightly curled, as though it spent some time wrapped around a curved surface.
Fish stew: Season freshwater with coral bits or seaweed. Cook fish for at least three hours over low flame. Add mushrooms. (Remember to save fish bones for other soups!)
Underfin noodles: Make broth with coral bits, seaweed, or fish bones. You can usually trade the Fate or the Dissidents for noodles, or find Longreed in the Prairie. It cooks down into something remarkably noodle-like in a few minutes. Crack an Underfin egg into the pot and make sure to boil until the yolk hardens. Don’t want those little sea-mites hatching in your stomach, no matter how much you prefer your eggs runny.
Muffins!: I suppose you thought muffins were out of the question, friend, but they aren’t. Well, they won’t quite rise properly, but it’s a fair resemblance all the same. Find Goldgrass in Wakingwood—you’ll need a bundle of it or so— and a sprig of Faerieflower. Grind them up, and mix with 3 Underfin eggs (make sure to use all the whites or it will come out as hard as a stone. Ask Rukey about his chipped tooth, next time you write him). Add Spikeberries or Bristling Dates from the Underthicket for taste and bake for 40 minutes.
But I imagine you’re tired of Downside cuisine, my friend, and I did promise to cook for you. Hopefully it’s survived the trip; this promise, at least, I would like to keep.
See also: A conceptual reconstruction of Downside terrain and climate 837-839 (B. Melith - Journal of Archival Cartography, 1316)
A STRANGE LUMP
As knitted by Mama Greentail and stuffed into a parcel package for delivery. Upon further examination, it appears to be a sweater of demon proportions. The yarn, high-quality as it is, leaves something to be desired in terms of color palette. A shameful hole in the body, however, suggests that it was worn once—though it might have caught on the horns.
As written on waterproof hideskin in faultless calligraphy. It appears the Reader was attempting to transcribe the contents at some point, as the original letters display a remarkable command of the Sahrian language but are of wyrm proportions. Modern research takes up the Reader’s task, pioneered by the eminent Gregoria Kidd. [4]
The ongoing translation effort suggests Sir Gilman was writing to wish Bertrude a happy Moonless-Dwelling, to express his dual glee and condolences over the conflagration of one of Bertrude’s kin, to enquire on Pamitha’s courtly love of “that noble Captain,” to renew his most solemn vow of friendship and service to the Nightwings, to lament the failing of the blackwagon, to inform the Reader that Chief Physician Oralech had come down with a cold but would persevere most stalwartly, to verify when Ti’zo’s birthday was, and/or to describe the water-cleansing initiatives undertaken for the public health of the new Sahrian Union.
…This wyrm-knight humbly learns new aspects of honor each day! The public health is a common good that even the mightiest sword could not…
…swimming through the muck of the sewage systems…why…of those days where, knowing only of my craven actions at the Rite, you nonetheless accepted my vow of service, and then of friendship…
See also: The Sir Gilman Letter (I. Pyreheart, 1337)
Strands in a Braid: A Complete Study of Early Sahrian Cross-River Correspondence 839-889 A.S. (G. Kidd - Cael Journal of Linguistics, 1321)
LOVE POEMS
As penned by Jodariel on parchment, torn in twenty-six pieces, and excavated from the mud of Wyrm Coast.
Little bird, who flies so fierce
Over hill and valley wide
I watch your dance of splendor
Cross the Downside’s mournful sky.
This demon cannot reach your heights
From her solemn place below
What sky you light within her heart
Little bird, you’ll never know.
The lonesome song the minstrel sang
Never did ring true
Within this hardened, weary heart—
Until it sang for you.
Noxshrooms are purple,
Stardust is blue
Scribes damn it all, I—
TI’ZO’S WRITING PRACTICE
As written in large, shaky letters, over the course of months, on several fish skeletons. Each are labeled with a scrap of hideskin, reading: “Do not use for soup.”
Ti’zo
Volfred
Tariq
Reader
Hedwyn
Rukey
Jodariel
Pamitha
Fae
Sir Gilman
Bertrude
Oralech
Erisa
—
As written on a piece of parchment. Arguably, spawned the modern day study of emotional physics, spearheaded by Dr. Jodar Lemaign. [5]
The ancient wards on Sandalwood’s carriage failed this day in the mud of Wyrm Coast. His compatriots were beside themselves…they would not leave the carriage like the carcass it was…though mark ye, we would not have left it either, being that it was Sandalwood’s. Perhaps we would have made use of it, though…transformed it such as it has oft been transformed. The Reading-One, they disagreed. Though these ones do not fear that which we seek, they are sentimental creatures.
In these four hundred years the world has turned and stars have faded, and yet this, the workings of those hearts such as Sandalwood’s, have not changed. See ye how grief lasts longer than gods. And then, love longer than grief.
The one who relinquished her wings for no one, save distant kin who spurned such sacrifice, and the one who carries this land in her body—Reading-One, we cannot recreate thy wheels. But, observe this dance.
See also: The fury of the land: harnessing emotion for kinetic force (J. Lemaign - Mancer Journal of Mechanics and Engineering, Vol. XVIII, 1287)
THE DANCE
In the words of Jodariel and Pamitha Theyn.
Well, darling, it is quite possible you will never see this—in which case this is, like the rest of my heartsickness over you, absolutely useless—but now your love poems really have become communal. Shall I pretend for both our sakes I haven’t seen them? Though, leaving aside the matter of feelings, it does ruffle one’s feathers to hear of a more dashing Harp than oneself. Have you found the Prince? Please tell me you have, and spare me some dignity.
I love no Prince.
Ah, well. It’s out, then. You could have at least lied to me about the Prince, darling, if you were going to expose me.
You are avoiding the point.
And you wound me, darling. How cruel.
You are the one being cruel. Let me put it plainly, so you cannot flutter about it: there is no other Harp. There is no other at all. I wrote those Scribes-damned poems for you.
Forgive me if I do not believe you
It is easier to flutter about. If I stop, the weight of these feelings on my wings
There was once a time cruelty was all you thought me capable of
And did you mean them?
You damnable fool, they would have cast me down thrice over for words like these. Even here, I do not forget this. Why would I waste such words on something I did not mean?
They would have cast you down, too. For reading them.
I would have read them, still.
And you would not regret it?
Oh, darling, you must know this. I
The words came from you.
Then read this, and come find me. Tonight, under the sky.
—
A MESSAGE TO TAMITHA THEYN
As sent by messenger-imp in an envelope, sealed in wax with the crest of the Highwing Remnants. It was returned with the seal split and the contents half-burnt.
Dear Tamitha,
Do you remember how we used to fly, before our feathers had truly come in, before our mothers allowed us over the mountains? Such a graceless thing. I was terrified you were going to fall, and I would be blamed for it. But, though I was hardly better than you, you never doubted I would catch you if you faltered. I would have tried. I did try.
I want to know how we trusted like that…
…and sister, we danced. Did you come to realize, in your time here, how gentle the Downside can be? Perhaps that is me softening my actions again, but when she held me…
…I miss you, always. But sometimes it comes like the loss of a wing, or my own heart. Sometimes it’s just like I’m wobbling in the air, flying without you. I do not know which terrifies me more.
I know you will not hear me. But I never imagined Jodariel would read my words and feel them, either. Perhaps I am foolish Perhaps I wish for you to know that I am Perhaps I do not want to feel like I am flying without you
Perhaps…
As delivered by messenger-imp in the third year of the Sahrian Union. It is the most recent piece—and last chronologically—connected to the Book of Friends. Though, many academics, including those such as Signis Gigas [6], believe we have more yet to discover.
Jodariel,
I know you too well, my friend—you don't need to fear me saying “I told you so.” I will only say that I am happy for you. That's the truth. I am happy that you have found a companion, and I am happy that you’ve managed to stop Bertrude from turning our blackwagon into walking sticks, and I am delighted that your dancing will keep our home moving. I suppose you both are the wings for the Nightwings, now.
(I can see you smiling under your grimace now. I promised not to say “I told you so.” I never promised not to tell my bad jokes.)
I feel myself growing older; the Downside did not transform me the way it did you, but it has taken its toll all the same. I walk more slowly. I tire more easily. Of course, it won't stop me from doing our share of work up here—one day, I promise you, we’ll build that bridge, and everyone will come home—but sometimes I let myself pause, take in the morning. I think the morning looks the same, whether you’re up here or down there. I know you will find it silly, but it brings me comfort.
We will always fight side by side, my old friend, but it gives me great joy to think of us dancing side by side, too.
Keep going. We’re all here, with you. Noxalas.
Hedwyn
See also: Noxalas: the transformation and redefinition of cross-river bonds in the early Sahrian Union (V. Khan - Nightwing Institute of Free Learning, 1317)
Wheels, Sweaters, and Love Poems: The Value of Mundanity in Mythic History (O. Penheart, 1331)
“Who Lights the Way for the Aimless?”: On Hope and Reconstruction in the Fall of an Age (S. Gigas, Conference on New Sahrian Education, 1338)
[1] Renly Featherweight: A noted historian of the Sahrian Union, they were one of the first to consider the Book of Friends a serious primary source. It is said they grew impatient waiting for access to the hide-sack, so they tracked down the messenger-imp who found it, climbed into the rafters, and there conducted an impromptu interview on the material. For their part, Renly never spoke on such rumors.
“What does it matter if it’s in a book or a sack? It is history!” [↺ go back]
[2] Oralech Penheart: A respected academic, much like his namesake, Oralech focused on a new facet of Sahrian history: the intricacies of exile companionship. Though it would grow to be a rich and varied area of study, in its early days, Oralech faced widespread judgment from the academic community for his pursuit. He retired with his husband in 1335.
“Within each exile must have battled a hope for liberation and an understanding of how to live without it. The answer to both was the bond of the triumvirate.” —Quote from Oralech’s thesis [↺ go back]
[3] Kasav Aristoches: The most prominent advocate of the Codex Theory , the idea that Volfred Sandalwood compiled through his lifetime a comprehensive written record. It would have included accounts of the early Sahrian Union government, the last Rites, and possibly rules and passages from the mythical Book of Rites itself. During graduate school, his classmates reported he cried himself to sleep in the library over the thought of losing such a valuable primary source. Aristoches retorted that all graduate students, at one point or another, cry themselves to sleep, and that he had just had the misfortune of doing so on the poor books.
“All history, from enough distance, looks like myth.” [↺ go back]
[4] Gregoria Kidd: A meticulous scholar, professor, and imp, she leads the growing movement for native Downside representation in academia. For a time, she also led a very public rivalry with fellow professor Tari Swallow, who disliked that Kidd was advocating for Downside representation but leading a project on Sir Gilman’s letter. The community fanned the flames; as the two most visible imps in their field, they were constantly pitted against each other. The string of warring footnotes, conferences, and passive-aggresssive lecture slides finally came to a head at the 1318 Mt. Alodiel Education Summit, where an hour and a half of verbal sparring produced translation breakthroughs for both projects. Now, the two remain in constant orbit, though do not recognize any conventional legal definition for their relationship.
“If we say they gave their freedom for ours, then I ask, what are you choosing to do with it?” [↺ go back]
[5] Dr. Jodar Lemaign: The founder of emotional physics, a scientific field dedicated to understanding and harnessing the kinetic force of emotions. Her seminal paper on the topic pointed to the potential for industry, bioengineering, even art—though as the field advanced, detractors worried most about its potential for weaponry. When asked, Dr. Lemaign shrugged and said she considered it an acceptable risk.
“We cannot stop progress. All that remains is to understand it.” [↺ go back]
[6] Signis Gigas: A leader in New Sahrian education, petitioning for funding for history, arts, and language programs across the country. He gave a fiery speech at the 1339 Mt. Alodiel Education Summit, lambasting the lingering prejudices toward Downside immigrants at every level of New Sahrian academia. Later, audience members would claim they were like Volfred Sandalwood reborn.
“What did they do after the stars died? Well, the stars had died, but they had not. I imagine they lived. I imagine they had to decide what kind of world they wished to live in, and what kind of world they hoped to pass on, into the future, to us. This cycle, they did not break—five hundred years later, we must decide how to live. And we must decide so that, five hundred years from now, someone might still have that choice.” —In answer to a student who asked what became of those Nightwings who remained [↺ go back]