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Truth and Reality

Sir Eamon of Keldry had this on him, sent to him by a friend, when he died on Tulevar.  His friend found it folded inside a book of philosophy.

(page is torn)ious, yet you complain that I am driving you mad?  It is not my ideas (that are) at fault, but your limited mortal ability to comprehend them.  You call yourself a philosopher!?  Even in your new kingdom of the padded room you cannot resist reading what I write.  You began this correspondence and I have come to enjoy it.  No matter that your wife cannot see the ink, you know that I am still teaching you, beloved student.

 

Really, everything I have shown you makes sense; you just aren't giving it a chance.

 

Take the matter of truth: What nonsense for mortals to fret so much over it.  Some things are true because they really happened, some because they have truth in them, and some are made to be true even after the fact.  Its all relative, sir.  A man may as well begin a novel with the words "I never wrote this book."  What nonsense!  What genius!

 

The tale of the ice dogs, for example, is true only in the land of Trahern on the day of the festival of Vicli.  For on that day they all celebrate Viclis glorious victory over the dogs, and even though such a thing may not have actually happened it is nonetheless made TRUE by the celebration, and by the truth of the Trahernians continual struggle against the cold winter, and by the reality of a dog-shaped pastry you can devour with your own teeth!

 

Other things become true because we want them to be, or because we fear them.  I know that you fear that rats will infest your home, eat your grain stores, nibble your toes at night.  If you fear it enough it may come to pass, given your association with my kind.  Be careful.  Dont think about rats!  Dont think about rats!

 

Some tales and histories are true because so many mortals have learned them, or because those who heard them told were convinced, or because they seem to have a sort of poetic justice to them.  An ebon forest guarded by a woodsman with a magical axe cannot come into existence overnight just because some part-time-poet on Arinth wrote about it, but the pen I scribe this with is made of a wood blacker than the dreams of a blind man.

 

Yes, yes, I know what you will ask next.  Its uncanny, isnt it?  What about things that were always real?  True before mortal tampering and the tyranny of ideas mucked about with our realms?  Well some things are true and never change, but people are too short sighted to know many of those tales.

 

There is the tale of the first of us, and that of our mother, but those aren't for your puny ears.  You aren't ready yet.  Most of the oldest stories aren't pretty, but at the same time they are beautiful.  There is also the story of the one who rebelled against those who once ruled over us, and how she was punished and imprisoned.  All her powers were taken from her and dispersed, but in their arrogance they missed one small thing, for it did not occur to them that one of her nature would have affinity with mortality and what lies beyond it.  It had been the least of her powers in those times, but from her prison (page ends).

Sidian read this document and stated that the last paragraph is not about her.  Naturally, upon re-reading, it is only too obvious to me that the Still One in question is Kolara, the Undying One.  That'll teach me to draw conclusions on insufficient evidence.