A Letter of Correspondence
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Given by Brontynn Marshad.
A Letter of Correspondence
Dearest Lania,
Thorsten's tomb has been complete for some time now and work progresses at a fine pace on this town, which will bear his name. The other night I had a dream. I believe it was a dream. I dreamt that I rose from bed in the darkness of early morning and journeyed to a bluff overlooking the lake. I gazed down at the Isle of Tears. Mist lay draped about the isle in ragged sheets like a beggar's garb. From out of the mist strode Thorsten, walking in a slow, floating gait. Unhurried, as if he had all eternity to reach me. His usually strong features were
hazy, not fully defined as the mist swirled about him, seemingly through him at moments. I understood deep inside that I was seeing a shade of Thorsten, his ghost. As he drew near I saw his eyes were locked on mine, and yet they focused beyond me as though searching for my soul that had been rended from the shell of my body. As I reached for his hand he dissolved into mist. I implored him to return but there was only the swirling mist and pre-dawn silence. I awoke wiping away tears. I was standing by my bed, my feet muddied. Had it only been a dream? I wonder when else
I might see him. Thorsten's armor stands in the corner of my room, watching me with hollow eyes. Having seen Thorsten on the bluff, even if it was a dream, I feel less of his presence within it and more within me. It is comforting.
Elysa