She smoothed the parchment out on the desk before her, dipped the quill in the ink and hovered over the parchment, hesitating before she began to write. What was she afraid of? She’d been sitting here about to start writing this letter for a long time already. It had been days, in fact, since the blind woman had slipped her the parchment as if she’d known that Ana had already begun to mull over the idea of contacting her in any case.
Well, desperate times called for desperate measures, and she’d already exhausted every other avenue that she had so far. She had to know. Sitting there, she recalled a recent conversation with the warlock, Zaiel, the one she’d most recently inducted, and she remembered his words clearly.
“I’ve never seen a soulstone shaped this way before and we… warlocks, we tend to weave our magic different from… well, we’re all taught in different ways.” And she’d sensed the hesitation before he’d finally told her, “I don’t want to be the bearer of grim news. We’ve only just met after all. Though I could be wrong…”
What would be the harm in trying in asking this woman now? Maybe she would be able to give her a more definitive answer, if there was one to be had. She finally put the quill to the parchment and began to write.
Let me begin first by saying that I hope this letter finds you well. My reason for writing, however, is a little more self-serving, if you will forgive that. I seek your help. I have heard that you can see things, that you know things, and I would very much like to meet with you at your earliest convenience to discuss something of a most personal nature.
She frowned at the struck out line, and shook her head. No, she would not write the letter over. A subconscious error had been just that. She wasn’t ready to let go of her husband, even if it was just his name, not yet. Maybe not ever, but certainly not yet. The Seer might know something, she might be able to see something that Ana couldn’t, and she would cling to that little hope that she had until all hope was gone completely.