Mae,
Daughter, I write to you now full of fear and regret. You were right -- there were no answers for our family here. This is a place of death, not life. In my grief, I lost sight of what was important. You didn't need a hero, some miracle-working adventurer, you needed a mother. I see now that I ran because accepting that responsibility would mean accepting the truth and saying goodbye to Forzi. I see now that she gone and there is nothing I -- nor your father -- can do to change that. I couldn't let go Mae, but I was holding onto nothing. And instead of healing together, I became obsessed with undoing the wound.
I tried to come back, but I don't think that's happening. I don't even know how I'm going to get this letter to you, but I had no other impulse in this abandoned lighthouse than to reach out to you, Maekrist. To apologize for allowing my grief to consume me and our future. At least you still have your father. Gods, I wish I could have been brave like Rothen, but I never had his strength. I see that strength in you.
Take care of him, Mae. He will need your temperance and perspective to get through this. He is strong, yes, but he will look for comfort in action, and often blindly. I fear he blames himself still, and holding onto that silent shame will do nothing but perpetuate more grief. Remind him that we are Suncallers and we speak for the light.
I love you Mae,
Mama
