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A Letter to Charlotte IV

Dearest Charlotte,

It has been some time, to say the least...

I am sorry that I have not had the presence of mind to tend to your grave as I said I would at the beginning of the spring thaw. My life has been...tumultuous and I have found myself preoccupied with the madness that has taken root in my life like choking creeper vines.

And it is only becoming worse. I am slipping.

I murdered someone, Lotte. In cold blood. Even though it was a loathsome inhuman 'Murkblood', it did not need to have its life taken in such a way. It was doing me no harm and it simply made the mistake of being at the wrong place at the wrong time... I was hurting. I lost my grasp upon my sense of self.

I regressed.

And in that moment I found myself slowly torturing that wretched creature to death... I did whatever I could to prolong the agony it felt, to stoke the fires that fueled its terror. I ripped, broke, teared, and light-damned bit pieces off of it little by little and drank in its fear, and its life force, like a fine wine. It screamed and begged in broken Draenei and yet I only continued...

No, it was not an 'it'. The murkblood was a "she".

And I devoured her lifeblood like a ghoul all in the name of sating a craving that has long been dormant. A hunger I truly hoped I was free of, though I suppose a craven abomination like myself will never truly change what they are.

Ah... if only to see the expression you would be giving me right now. Surely I would die of guilt...

[There is a visible pause signified by an awkward spacing of paragraphs and idle pen taps.]

As you, and many others, may know... Magic corrupts. Whether it be arcane, shadow, fel, elemental, or even light. Excessive use of these 'schools' yield different effects, but usually end up the same in the end–a wanting. A need.

Siphoning the life energies of another, be it humanoid or otherwise, whether it be 'needed' or not, is just such a craving... It is a forbidden fruit that is almost indescribable in nature, but it warms you–fills you. It is more physically gratifying than the finest of food could ever aspire to be and the euphoria you feel is... Mortals were not meant to channel this sort of power and when you allow yourself to go over the brink, even once, you are changed.

But I have not done such a thing to another sentient being in years... Not like this. Only when I was being attacked and attempting to mend myself. Not this...'thrill kill'.

The regret of my actions weighs heavily upon me, Lotte. Forgive me.

I am weak.

I am becoming undone.

 

 

And I am thoughtless... I seemingly only write to you nowadays when I find myself in great emotional or moral peril. Yet so much has been on my mind in the past few months, I did not know where to even start–On how to even VOICE these things to you.

Though I believe what prompted this letter at long last is my most recent dealing with Rehten. 'His' very being gives me pause and it makes me think of many-a-thing about my own life, the world, and my place in it.

I was reminded of the deal I made a few months back in Stranglethorn... I was supposed to meet my end that night, Lotte, for my benefactor was clearly at her wit's end on dealing with me. It is...a long story, however I made yet another deal in my cowardice. I did not want to die. I still do not. Not when I found a shred of happiness at long last.

Though sometimes I wonder if it would have been better to let Kaalara finally 'collect'. It would at least be quick. But of course that is simply melodramatic talk I am indulging in... I could not do that to Aren...to the others.

Yet instead of a quick death, I am now doomed to being slowly consumed...not in body, but in soul.

Memories, actually, for they are the stuff of one's spirit. In order to spare Auroran her wrath, and spare my life, I made this deal with her in order to placate her... As far as I can tell, it has worked, but even though she 'guaranteed' that the rate of what she takes would be slow-going... I know her. She will likely become impatient once again and go back on her word. I am not the faithful servant she inducted all those years ago. Her patience with me is thin, at best.

Of course I do not know what she has 'eaten' most of the time, so I assume they are long buried memories or ones I have not bothered to try and reminisce on. However...there is one that I knew was missing. My name. I could not recall it. It was only through digging through some of my old records that I found it; Enea Rossi. As for the surname, I understand its origin again, but I knew that the first held great importance to me. I assume you gave it to me, Charlotte... Likely due to how unsettled I was at trying to remember just who granted me such a gift. Yet...now it is a name that I feel that had its meaning robbed from it.

So that is what I have been doing with myself as of late, Lotte... Fretting over forgetting moments of importance and devoting to writing down as much as I could humanly recall whether it be a mundane thought or cherished memory. Letting worry and nightmares plague me. Becoming careless... Invoking the ire of the Kamil's upper echelon with my sloppy behavior. But this

This is far worse than any sudden dissolution of one's being... Now I have been doomed to watch myself fall apart. The death of one's soul is a far greater tragedy of the death of one's self. The spirit is an immortal thing and has lived countless lives and seen this world through many different eyes, be it from a tiny insect or an awe-inspiring dragon. That is what Rehten is... a 'pocket' of the primordial river of where all spiritual energy eventually returns to mingle, mix, and give birth to a new being–The Twisting Nether.

It is why some people, even myself, sometimes dream of people and places they've never seen...but it all feels so incredibly familiar. For what the body and mind forget, the soul does not.

The destruction of a soul is not just a singular murder... It is a tragic death of hundreds upon thousands of lives that have come beforehand. It is why I have such a difficult time using soul shards. When I finally learned what I was using as a tool fully, the weight of desecrating, or destroying, such a thing increased tenfold. And yet... I still ultimately commit these atrocities out of my own cowardice and selfish desire to live. It all seems so hypocritical of me when I am undergoing such similar fate...

...Though I can tell no one about this aside from you, for it will only cause worry and panic when I only want to live my days in some semblance of peace...  So I have been getting my affairs in order; finishing a new home for Aren to live in, setting aside more money, catching up on work again, and...finally saw to writing a will now that I actually have people I would want to bequeath things to.

Though while I am preparing for my approaching demise, I still do not wish to die. Call it denial or vain hope, but...

That is all I can do at the moment. Hope.

And should the day come that you are fully dead to me, I pray you know how much I have loved you.

 

~ Enea

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((Cross-posted from WyrmrestAccord.net @ this entry.))

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