Dear Archivist,
As the old moon, my time here wanes. I yearn for the day when
I can step down and allow the next in line to stand guard. I’ve done all I can
to stretch my years here. If it was known the means I’ve gone to in order to extend
my time… well, perhaps such information is better not openly admitted.
Today, I write you with great trepidation.
The next Sentinel in line has vanished with no trace of his whereabouts. I’ve searched and
consulted with not only the Fay kings and queens, but even the Consortium
members, all to no avail.
My heart breaks for the loss of my only
blood son. Added to my already heavy burden, is the taking on of Ian’s wife and
two children: Malakai and Wyndee Lynn. The younger girl shows an eagerness to learn about the Fay
Realm, and has read my storybooks several times over. She is naught but ten years, still fanciful
and full of whimsy.
The elder boy, Malakai, on the other hand is a sore disappointment. His lack of
imagination, perpetual sullenness, and constant falling into trouble is a trial
for both his mother and myself.
Still, perhaps I judge too harshly. How can
I not? My son Ian
was an inquisitive lad at this age: creative and adventurous. He found beauty
and comfort in the woods surrounding us and spent many hours studying animal
and plant life. Unfortunately, his son would rather ride his bike like a rabid
bat shooting through those same woods, not caring what damage or harm he might
cause. As I said, the exasperating boy can’t seem to look beyond the tip of his
petulant little nose, which is usually stuck in some sports magazine.
Ah, enough of my grumblings. I know, my
dear friend Archivist, what you would say. Patience is a virtue. We never know
what the next day will bring. A diamond is nothing but a dull rock until its cut and polished.
I
greatly hope the next gem appears soon. Very soon. I grow so weary.
I will continue to keep you posted on our
progress.
Your servant,
Sir Richard
