I have always prided myself on paying attention to the details that many others would overlook. It has been the cause of most of my success in this life so far. However, it is only a useful skill if I then apply reason and rigor to the information I uncover.
Yesterday, I saw a mark in the ground while trying to track down my friend, Alke. I won’t go into the details of why she needed tracking, for I feel that may be a private matter and I believe that one day, people may look over these papers with great interest.
The mark was a small, circular shape with irregular protrusions all around its circumference. It caught my eye, because it reminded me of the cane that Hekate made for himself after he broke his leg. It was so very familiar.
It appears that I may not have progressed as much as previously thought, for my ability to process this mark properly functioned very poorly indeed. I found myself staring at it. I convinced myself that I saw the rounded impression of a cane, the tell-tale notch where the stick had cracked. I saw, in my mind’s eye, the time when Hekate had cursed under his breath while binding the damage with a piece of torn cloth. He had worked so hard on that cane.
As I have grown, I’ve become accustomed to the way ideas form and grow. A tiny seed will become lodged and it will flourish in the back of my mind. If that seed finds nourishment - perhaps a professional fascination, a physical need or an existential longing - then there is no way to stop it from growing. It will grow taller in the subconscious before blooming in the greater mind. I have dealt with such intrusions by learning to accept them into my garden, tending to them from time to time so that they cannot become rampant weeds.
This idea was altogether different, somehow. The seed grew quickly into a tangle of vines that strangled all other growth. It took over my garden with an urgency that I haven’t experienced since my dear family disappeared ten years ago. I allowed it to spread, with none of my usual careful shaping.
It was as if, at any moment, I could see my beloved Hekate again. I could hear his voice ringing in my ears, already telling me of his adventures and trials. There he was, wearing his typically unfashionable gown, dragging on the floor, cane in hand with all its intricate carvings. He would once again test me in dialogue, probing for understanding and approval. I could embrace him once again.
If I just followed this trail, perhaps I would see Frona holding Kore’s hand as they explored the city. Just a few feet away, around the next corner. I would convince myself that I had smelled her perfume on the breeze, or that I could hear Kore’s distinctive, hoarse laugh. Frona would smile and point me out to our daughter, as if I had only been away for a moment. She would forgive me, for all that I have done.
Can you imagine the consequences of allowing those seeds to grow?
For every dead end, each cold trail, I sensed my panic rising. My reunion grew ever more distant, yet there was always another lead. Before long, I’m sorry to say, these leads grew ever more sinister. It became clear to me that others were hiding the truth from me. I saw evidence of the misdeeds wherever I looked; be it a riot in the market or an Academy seal that appeared to be out of date. A message from Nyx, of all people, at this exact moment.
The disappearance of my family was an ordeal that I will never forget, especially as there was nobody to help me grieve. They had simply never existed. However, I did forget the force of raw, destructive despair. I rediscovered this yesterday and I still reel from it. I struggle to keep my mind sharp, especially as my only real solace is contained in a skin of wine. I wish nothing more than to sleep.
They say it was Lutheria. If this is true, perhaps I am indebted to her. She reminded me of hope, and of the legitimacy of my own personal quest. Grief is a powerful motivator if directed toward the correct target. Perhaps I can pull myself out of this quagmire for long enough to utilise it. I must dissect this feeling. I must weaponise it.