You will receive a body. You may love it or hate it, but it will be yours for the entire duration of your life.
You will take lessons. You are enrolled, without right of appeal, in a mandatory and full-time university called Life.
There are no mistakes, only lessons. Growth unfolds through trials, errors, and experimentation. What you call failure is simply an experiment that taught you something different from what you expected. It is no less valuable than what you later call success.
Lessons repeat themselves until they are understood. They return in altered forms, wearing different faces, until they are recognized. Once you learn them, you move on.
Learning never ends. There is no stage of life without it. If you are alive, there are still lessons.
“There” is never better than “here.” When “there” becomes “here,” another “there” will appear and again seem preferable.
Other people are your mirrors. You cannot love or hate something in another unless it reflects something you love or hate within yourself.
What you make of your life depends on you. You already possess all the tools and resources you need. How you use them is your responsibility. The choice is always yours.
The answers lie within you. All of life’s questions already contain their answers. Observe, listen, and trust.
Will you forget all this?

Half of our encampment had taken form long ago. This troubled the Anemaki tribe and led to the elders’ decision to call for a duel.

Kris’ indifferent stance toward the events of the war set a bad example, and the strange influence he exerted over everyone was misunderstood. He was the most suitable choice of opponent. The elders held the distorted belief that, to survive when the fire reaches your own yard, you must make disorderly retreats and sudden counterattacks against your neighbor. Who did not assume that I, the witch, had interfered, pushing everyone into passivity through magic? In the end, they knew so little.

Kris, as Ankel’s opponent, would have one single chance to prove himself—and my insistence on peace. His motive was great and could well rival Ankel’s, yet it was not enough. It was not enough to extinguish the blaze of desire for war that had been ignited in Ankel’s heart.

In the duel, King Ankel disarmed Kris and, without showing mercy, killed him with a finishing blow to the neck. With this act of death, he ordered submission to the Union and preparation for a long-term war.

For the honor of your existence: in the year 2016, Kris, your father, fell in duel against King Ankel, defending our beliefs. We had not even had time to name you, my son. You should feel grateful, for had the events that led to your father’s fall not occurred, we might not have remained alive at all.

I swiftly took you back into my arms, small and light as you were, and we went to find our friends, those who foresaw what was coming and were the first to leave.

Our destination became the place of Reese and Ido, their renowned Homeostasis. Here we witnessed firsthand the physiotechnological miracle of the coexistence of old and new ideas of Reese within a single, unique space.
Now we are the caretakers of this Homeostasis, A.Th.A.H.E. Our eyes have seen much and even more than what I have confided to you has already been forgotten.

A few hours ago, Ido, our first visitor in these first three years, brought me a mission addressed to you, along with a written order: to deliver to you the books it contained, but only when you discover them yourself, in your own time.

When you read these letters, the moment will have arrived. You will have discovered the chest in which I hid all this knowledge, unique in the entire world. I do not know whether it waited patiently for you or whether, after my departure, it found you immediately—but one thing is certain. I had to protect you one last time, even if it meant losing you forever. Perhaps you will make the leap into the void on your own; if it were up to me, I would still try to stop you.

As for me, I have decided to do what I can and answer the call of my beloved place, and the longing I have carried for years. I do not have much strength left, and now that you are strong, I choose to abandon our residence and head once more toward Anima Key. There I wish to guide the first—and let it be the last—leap into the void, and receive yet another breath in the place where you received your first. To meet your father again. To find a reason to wait patiently once more for something. For your arrival.

Yesterday, after the great celebration of your thirty-third birthday that we prepared, Aido and I told you we were leaving for a vacation in the wild wooded grounds of the A.Th.A.H.E. residence. Now you have learned the truth of my definitive disappearance.

Forgive me for keeping all these things from you, but I made this decision because of the world-historical events that forever changed the face of our planet, and the dystopian necessities of our lives. We had to adapt to the new beginning, clean, sober, and consistent.

All I want now, and then I am done, is to offer, by whatever means, energy to your calm and fuel to your desires.

I bid you farewell knowing that someday we will meet again, somehow different, somewhere else, at another time.
I love you.