Lathe's Letters: Diarmad (Patreon)

Diarmad,

This is going to be difficult to read, and I am sorry.

I died two years ago. But I did not join the Constellations that day, my friend. I found myself in the Realm of Shadows, just a short skip away from Dis in the grand scheme of it all. I found myself trapped in a coin, in the hands of a ferryman.

My ferryman was something else, Diarmad. We stepped into the Sun together, and instead of sending me to the stars as the fates demanded, he allowed me a measure of control. We spent years tying up all the loose ends our little band left behind. Not a one of you will be awoken by the ghosts of your past. Not on my watch.

But my ferryman knows what I tried to forget: everything must go, eventually. It is my time. I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, forever shifting and brilliantly alive thing you are, but I still find myself hoping.

I don’t know what the view is like from the Constellations. It’s a little bit terrifying, to tell you the truth.

There is a letter here for everyone. I trust you more than I ever trusted myself. I trust you to know what to do with them.

Please, Diarmad. Take care of them. I know you have been, and I know you will. I wish I still could.

You are the best of us, my friend. The kindest, the most assured, the grumpiest. The shortest. If you haven’t started that druid cult, you need to. You’re a born leader. The kingdom will be better for your guidance and wisdom.

I know I was.

Thank you.

Good night.