Dear Mother,

When you find this, I will beyond retrieval, so do not look for me. You will not find me.

There are so many things I wish I could say: I am sorry, forgive me, please understand, do not worry, I will be fine, I love you . . . but these could never complete a full excuse, nor reconcile what about to do. Though, when you read this, the deed will be done. Please understand, Mother. I could not leave Adrax there. I cannot let them keep him.

Every day I see him in that cursed costume I want break the Choice Cleric’s staff over his head! If I tried I could not number to you all the insane – though quite good – schemes I and other friends have come up with for his rescue, none of which we ever did for fear of endangering our families. Is this what Ononia has come to? Fear? We were not always ruled by this iron claw of terror which has sunk into the bravest souls and sapped them of all purpose and life. Or slain them . . . like Father. No, Mother, I can remember – as I know you can too – the days when the Ononi were free, both from fear and this black slavery which our own blindness has bound us in. I want Ononia back. I love my people, my country and my home as they once were. And I know that Adrax is the key.

At least, he is the first key. As when making one’s way into the vault of a great treasure, other doors will appear and – I hope – other keys to open them. I know that there is really nothing I can do. Who am I? I cannot save my people – my country – but I will gather those who can, and though my call to arms prove but the final blast of a dying horn, I pray that it be enough.

Pray for me, Mother, as you have never prayed before. I go tonight to rescue Adrax and, likely, to start a war.

Loelyon be your Light,

Valtris