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Fourteenth day of Rain Moon, 464 M.G.E. (Modern Gaian Era)

There are few things in this life that have truly made me weep. Today, I learned that my mentor, the priestess Amstella, of Warai Temple, passed on several years ago. In fact, it was the very year that I left her tutelage that she moved on to the next life. There was no violence; she simply left me behind. When I arrived at the temple, I found that she had long since been burnt, her ashes scattered to the four winds. I knelt upon the penitent's pad the whole night through, trying to determine if could have done something.

If I had stayed, would she still be alive today?

Could I chase her to the spirit plane, to try to bring her back?

Would she even want to come back, if she could?

Honored Shirai found me the next morning, collapsed upon the floor, pad forgotten, lost in my tears and grief. Over my short life, I have become accustomed to death, but never had I lost someone so dear to me.

Now, the war is over, Gaia is still whole. What is left for me to do? I have achieved every wind mage's dream, to become one with his element. Perhaps I thought that I would move beyond human nature, that elementals have no thoughts, feelings, and misgivings. Perhaps I believed that immortality would provide me with a shield of unfeeling with which to deflect the pain that gnaws away at my heart.

I need to talk to Flare. Perhaps I will record more here on the morrow.

Truewind