I envy them, those who can't see. Those who know not, that they are not. And those who love, blithe and free, sins forgotten and thus absolved. A fresh dawn in their playground, while we live in shadows, swimming in ink. We are but a fragile dream, a singular weed, resisting, ever resisting. That iron dirt, that eternal law. Those who can't see. Whose whocknow not, that they are not.

Those that know not, that they are not.


Brother,
I tire of the conflicts and deceptions that plague our family and theirs.
So, I entrust you with this letter. Whether you give it to her is up to you.
I'm at peace with what's to come.
When the time comes, I hope you will be too.

Maelle,
It's a strange feeling, watching you with my brother.
Laughing and smiling. Without the scars or the memories that afflict me.
Alicia, as she was meant to be.
Not this painted version that I am.
My family, a facsimile of yours.
And this world, a mirror.
Painted by your mother, the Paintress, to stave off her grief.
Seeing your Expedition through would plunge us all into the abyss.
For in ridding the world of the Paintress...
You'd lose the sole force standing against the one who would erase us.
The one who invokes the flowers of the Gommage. An act of love, for he does love her.
Your father.

On her Monolith, She paints a warning for us all.
Of the few she can save as her power wanes.
We all wish for our families to thrive.
Your family, however, believes only one can survive.
But perhaps you'll find another way. You who have lived amongst us.
Perhaps you differ from your father and your sister, as I differ from mine.
Your mother Paints life, whilst your father... death.

What will you Paint?
Alicia