As I write this letter, we near the isle. By the time the owl delivers it, I will be but a day away.
I've heeded Alexander's orders, just as you said I should. But I think of Lucian often. Would the Divine have condoned this? Would he have blessed us as we ripped children from their mothers? Can this... be the only way?
I feel cold. Inside and out. Of one thing I am certain: Your arms will warm me when I find you again