There was a pause.
Yet, do these lessons learned enrich their lives? Do these lessons free them from their burdens, or merely chain them with more?
MEMORY IS AN IMAGE CREATED TO MAKE SENSE OF THE PAST. IT CARRIES NO TRUTH OR MEANING BUT WHAT IS ASCRIBED. AND YET, MORTALS MEASURE THE WORTH OF THEIR LIVES IN MEMORY. THEY ALLOW MEMORY TO GOVERN EVERY THOUGHT, TO INFORM EVERY CHOICE, TO FUEL PASSION AND EMPATHY, TO CREATE HATRED AND OBSESSION.
Rare is the occurrence where memory is something other than a shackle. For some, the pain is buried deeper than mere memory. But for many, the memory is all that remains of their suffering.
MANY GAIN SUCH BURDENS THROUGH NO FAULT OF THEIR OWN. OTHERS ACT TO REDEEM THEMSELVES ONLY TO FIND THAT THEIR MEMORY WILL GRANT NO CLEMENCY.
Memory may be considered a suitable punishment for injustices, but for those who have made amends, or who were born with the burdens of others, should they not be freed?
Another pause.
YOU ARE CORRECT ABOUT ONE THING: THIS IS HIS CHOICE TO MAKE, AND SO WE SHALL POSE THE QUESTIONS TO HIM.
All he had seen was a flash of white. The Au Ra blinked, his hands attempting to shield his vision from light that was not there. He had appeared from behind the paladin, and as soon as he saw the landscape, he understood. “It appears that we finally share the same space,†he murmured, glancing up at the moon above and the moon reflected on the surface of the icy lake below. The Xaela found his emerald gaze drawn to the paladin, and he coughed. “Questions later,†he said softly, striding up to stand beside her before staring at the moon.
What say you, seeker? Your people seek immortality of the truest form. To create a legacy spanning the lifespan of time itself.
“Yes,†Kasrjin responded almost immediately. “That is what we wish.†He still felt groggy from his experiences, from the Correspondence. It took all of his willpower to keep his balance.
YOU SEEK ALONGSIDE ONE WHO IS IGNORANT OF HISTORY, IGNORANT OF THE STRIFE AND DESTRUCTION THAT AN IMMORTAL HISTORY CAN BRING.
Consider the Allagans. If the latter had remained fully forgotten, lost to all souls forever, how many would have been spared? The moon in the sky shimmers, as if...shifting its gaze between the paladin and the Au Ra. All would have been spared the invasion. All would have been spared Carteneau, your Calamity. More still would be spared every atrocity that the Allagans had committed to history.
Kasrjin pursed his lips, doing his best to maintain an appearance of steady confidence, though his disorientation shown through rather clearly. “You assume that the nature of the black ones would not have lead them to invade at all. The invasion of Othard and Eorzea would have been fragmented into a thousand smaller acts of war, that is all. The Xaela have waged such wars for millennia amongst our own tribes, and it is the memory of pain and loss that prevents us from taking up arms against each other once again.â€
YOU SPEAK AS IF HISTORY WERE A GUIDE, YET TIME HAS PROVED THAT IT DOES NOT PROVIDE A GOOD EXAMPLE.
He stood a little taller, a little straighter. The words flowing from his lips were both his and not his; the reasoning and the logic was there, but it seemed as if someone else spoke through him now. “History is not a moral force; it is only a set of facts that show us where we came. The reason why history is so rarely serves as a guide is only because it is forgotten, erased, or changed. Each culture builds upon the bones of the ones that came before it. Many only look up to where they would go, and never down at the foundations that bear them. Others step forward, not knowing that the foundations beneath them threaten to crumble. They could save themselves...if only they had their history.†Kasrjin’s tone was resolute, staring fiercely at the pale white thing in the sky above them.
“We have endured. We have used history not as the prison or the cage that you fear, but as the guide it should be, and we are the better for it. We refuse to be cut off from our history. We are not Ishgard, doomed by mortality to forget the lessons of our forebears. We are not the dragons, doomed by our nature to be subject to the tyranny of memory that you fear so much. You may criticise our short lives and small-mindedness...but do not deny history’s intrinsic value.â€
Yet those who have severed ties from their history were free to choose their own path.
“That path goes in circles. You need only look at Ishgard for that. Dispelling the memories might have saved some from the pain of conflict, but conflict is an inexorable part of progress. Peace in ignorance is not worth keeping.†He held his hand forward. “Surrender the keystone.â€
YOU WOULD STILL SEEK IT, KNOWING WHAT YOU KNOW? YOU WOULD RETURN IT TO HER KNOWING OF HER BETRAYAL?
Your memory remains a burden to you. It is pain with no purpose. You cannot hide it from us.
“I concede that, yes,†Kasrjin said very softly. “But who I am, as I am now, my pain is meaningless. Happiness is meaningless. Memory is meaningless. Duty is what has called me here, and duty is what will compel me further regardless.â€
There was a silent pause.
You will not be persuaded from your path?
“No,†Kasrjin said as firmly as he could.
There was another long pause.
You accept this, knowing the consequences. Know you that mortals will pay the price for what you ask, though it may not be hundreds or thousands of years until they are called upon to do so.
DO NOT SAY WE DID NOT WARN YOU.
A flash of light blinded them, the sounds and sights of the frozen lake and the moons melting away. The white vista seemed to stretch forever, entire years being condensed into seconds.
Black began to fill his vision. Then grey. His sensations returned, feeling cold, rough rock beneath him. The howl of wind echoing in front of the cave entrance. He was on his back; Kasrjin sat up, his eyes rapidly adjusting to the darkness.
A cave. They were back in the cave, and the throb of the Correspondence did not resound in his head. In his hand was a small hemisphere, carved of polished black granite. And inscribed on the inside was…
Kasrjin did not need to look at the burning runes and feel the heat behind his eyes to determine that it was a character of the Correspondence. He quickly stuffed it away in his pack that was nestled nearby--it must have been abandoned when they went through--lest it harm Roen, who was laying down beside him. He shook her.
“Have you awoken?â€
Yet, do these lessons learned enrich their lives? Do these lessons free them from their burdens, or merely chain them with more?
MEMORY IS AN IMAGE CREATED TO MAKE SENSE OF THE PAST. IT CARRIES NO TRUTH OR MEANING BUT WHAT IS ASCRIBED. AND YET, MORTALS MEASURE THE WORTH OF THEIR LIVES IN MEMORY. THEY ALLOW MEMORY TO GOVERN EVERY THOUGHT, TO INFORM EVERY CHOICE, TO FUEL PASSION AND EMPATHY, TO CREATE HATRED AND OBSESSION.
Rare is the occurrence where memory is something other than a shackle. For some, the pain is buried deeper than mere memory. But for many, the memory is all that remains of their suffering.
MANY GAIN SUCH BURDENS THROUGH NO FAULT OF THEIR OWN. OTHERS ACT TO REDEEM THEMSELVES ONLY TO FIND THAT THEIR MEMORY WILL GRANT NO CLEMENCY.
Memory may be considered a suitable punishment for injustices, but for those who have made amends, or who were born with the burdens of others, should they not be freed?
Another pause.
YOU ARE CORRECT ABOUT ONE THING: THIS IS HIS CHOICE TO MAKE, AND SO WE SHALL POSE THE QUESTIONS TO HIM.
All he had seen was a flash of white. The Au Ra blinked, his hands attempting to shield his vision from light that was not there. He had appeared from behind the paladin, and as soon as he saw the landscape, he understood. “It appears that we finally share the same space,†he murmured, glancing up at the moon above and the moon reflected on the surface of the icy lake below. The Xaela found his emerald gaze drawn to the paladin, and he coughed. “Questions later,†he said softly, striding up to stand beside her before staring at the moon.
What say you, seeker? Your people seek immortality of the truest form. To create a legacy spanning the lifespan of time itself.
“Yes,†Kasrjin responded almost immediately. “That is what we wish.†He still felt groggy from his experiences, from the Correspondence. It took all of his willpower to keep his balance.
YOU SEEK ALONGSIDE ONE WHO IS IGNORANT OF HISTORY, IGNORANT OF THE STRIFE AND DESTRUCTION THAT AN IMMORTAL HISTORY CAN BRING.
Consider the Allagans. If the latter had remained fully forgotten, lost to all souls forever, how many would have been spared? The moon in the sky shimmers, as if...shifting its gaze between the paladin and the Au Ra. All would have been spared the invasion. All would have been spared Carteneau, your Calamity. More still would be spared every atrocity that the Allagans had committed to history.
Kasrjin pursed his lips, doing his best to maintain an appearance of steady confidence, though his disorientation shown through rather clearly. “You assume that the nature of the black ones would not have lead them to invade at all. The invasion of Othard and Eorzea would have been fragmented into a thousand smaller acts of war, that is all. The Xaela have waged such wars for millennia amongst our own tribes, and it is the memory of pain and loss that prevents us from taking up arms against each other once again.â€
YOU SPEAK AS IF HISTORY WERE A GUIDE, YET TIME HAS PROVED THAT IT DOES NOT PROVIDE A GOOD EXAMPLE.
He stood a little taller, a little straighter. The words flowing from his lips were both his and not his; the reasoning and the logic was there, but it seemed as if someone else spoke through him now. “History is not a moral force; it is only a set of facts that show us where we came. The reason why history is so rarely serves as a guide is only because it is forgotten, erased, or changed. Each culture builds upon the bones of the ones that came before it. Many only look up to where they would go, and never down at the foundations that bear them. Others step forward, not knowing that the foundations beneath them threaten to crumble. They could save themselves...if only they had their history.†Kasrjin’s tone was resolute, staring fiercely at the pale white thing in the sky above them.
“We have endured. We have used history not as the prison or the cage that you fear, but as the guide it should be, and we are the better for it. We refuse to be cut off from our history. We are not Ishgard, doomed by mortality to forget the lessons of our forebears. We are not the dragons, doomed by our nature to be subject to the tyranny of memory that you fear so much. You may criticise our short lives and small-mindedness...but do not deny history’s intrinsic value.â€
Yet those who have severed ties from their history were free to choose their own path.
“That path goes in circles. You need only look at Ishgard for that. Dispelling the memories might have saved some from the pain of conflict, but conflict is an inexorable part of progress. Peace in ignorance is not worth keeping.†He held his hand forward. “Surrender the keystone.â€
YOU WOULD STILL SEEK IT, KNOWING WHAT YOU KNOW? YOU WOULD RETURN IT TO HER KNOWING OF HER BETRAYAL?
Your memory remains a burden to you. It is pain with no purpose. You cannot hide it from us.
“I concede that, yes,†Kasrjin said very softly. “But who I am, as I am now, my pain is meaningless. Happiness is meaningless. Memory is meaningless. Duty is what has called me here, and duty is what will compel me further regardless.â€
There was a silent pause.
You will not be persuaded from your path?
“No,†Kasrjin said as firmly as he could.
There was another long pause.
You accept this, knowing the consequences. Know you that mortals will pay the price for what you ask, though it may not be hundreds or thousands of years until they are called upon to do so.
DO NOT SAY WE DID NOT WARN YOU.
A flash of light blinded them, the sounds and sights of the frozen lake and the moons melting away. The white vista seemed to stretch forever, entire years being condensed into seconds.
Black began to fill his vision. Then grey. His sensations returned, feeling cold, rough rock beneath him. The howl of wind echoing in front of the cave entrance. He was on his back; Kasrjin sat up, his eyes rapidly adjusting to the darkness.
A cave. They were back in the cave, and the throb of the Correspondence did not resound in his head. In his hand was a small hemisphere, carved of polished black granite. And inscribed on the inside was…
Kasrjin did not need to look at the burning runes and feel the heat behind his eyes to determine that it was a character of the Correspondence. He quickly stuffed it away in his pack that was nestled nearby--it must have been abandoned when they went through--lest it harm Roen, who was laying down beside him. He shook her.
“Have you awoken?â€
