Echoing with deafening silence, the tunnels and caverns of Káto
are rarely this quiet, the movement of people within cities often drifting. But today, the normally bustling Silver Elf
cities are deathly silent, not a creature or sound moving in the streets. Even to the most stalwart of travelers, this quiet is unsettling, marking the day for what it is, a date on the calendar that few partake in, but is a deep spiritual observance that cannot be ignored.
As the silence permeates the air, people sit quietly in their private chambers, putting quill to parchment and scribbling letters to those that have since left this world. The Day of the Dead
brings with it an interesting introspection, far from the mourning that some people would expect. Those that participate in this day are rarely swallowed by sorrow but are compelled to put to paper feelings that have captured them in cycles of stunted growth. This day and this practice will hopefully allow them to move forward with a renewed vision of the world before them.
The silence lingers as all within the cities continue drafting what is known as a Promise of Night. These letters are written to loved ones that have passed in an effort to find closure and move forward from a death. Goals are noted, feelings of love, anger, sorrow, and hope are inscribed on paper in secret to later be read in silence at a burial grounds for those that have left the world. Only then will the letter be burned, forever left to secret, a promise between those still living and the dead they have lost.