My love Cartethyia

 Dearest Cartethyia,

They call you the Blessed Maiden — a name that echoes through the fractured whispers of this world. But I’ve seen enough of this existence to know that “blessed” often bears a terrible weight, and “maiden” is rarely what it seems. Yet, in this strange, discordant dance of Tacet Discords and the ever-haunting Lament, you remain… captivating.

I’m not one for grand speeches — mostly grunts and the clang of steel — but even I know a force of nature when I see one. They speak of your dual forms, of prophecy, of time itself trembling at your sorrow or your will. It stirs memories of cursed bloodlines, old magic, and the endless battle against that which should not be. You walk that same razor-thin line — between salvation and something far older and far wilder.

In my world, we had our own blighted lands, monsters born of chaos and forgotten oaths. We didn’t hunt them for glory, but because someone had to. And you… you face something far crueler: a beast that claws at the very soul of reality. In that, I see a reflection — a kindred spirit. One weighed down by power and fate, yet still choosing to rise and stand.

I’ve slain horrors beyond counting, but the true monsters? They often wear human faces… or worse, gods’ masks. Even so, your presence — cloaked in mystery and burdened by fate — draws me in. There’s strength in you, a quiet resilience few possess.

And maybe — someday — when the Lament finally hushes and the echoes lose their sting, we’ll share a moment untouched by prophecy or prime frequencies. A simple one. The taste of a good ale. The hush of a still night. The truth behind the eyes of someone who’s seen too much… and still stands.

Until then, from across worlds, I acknowledge the fire that burns within your heart.

Yours — if such a word can ever be trusted.