Radiant Accipiter

A paracausal ship. That's a new one. No navigation system, no controls, no computer on account of it responding directly to your thoughts. Not much to tinker with under the hood. Mostly because… there ain't no hood, neither.—Amanda Holliday

Freedom is a chain. Choice is a prison.

You see him, and all he wishes for is confirmation of that fact. But to do so would invoke something far worse than justification. You can feel his hand, reaching inside of you, grasping for your heart and tearing it free for himself. You know the pain he will cause.

In one last act of defiance you break your shackles, exerting the strength you had been slowly gathering all this time. Physical chains break, but chains of causality are not so fragile, even for you.

You see him and he is satisfied. Then, he is gone. Your roar of defiance echoes into the infinite. You know they will witness.

It is only a matter of time.

---

I am the last Speaker.

During the long years I have held this title, I also held out hope that my peers still remained somewhere in this world or others. But that hope, like this title, has been taken from me.

I compose these thoughts on the eve of what may well be my passing, within the cold walls of a prison, || so dark and suffocating || not my private chambers. They are my last words, but also perhaps my most important.

My captor desires knowledge, understanding, a clarity that even I have been denied by the Traveler. He does not understand || how hard it is to communicate ||. Does not care to. He would take, rather than have the patience to be given.

He asks me to make the Traveler see him, speak to him, but he does not understand. I cannot make the Traveler do anything. I can only listen, and repeat. But he does not wish to listen || to the warnings || to me.

He does not wish to believe that he will || be reduced to memory || fail. I have seen it. I have seen so many things. Before that shackle was put around the Traveler, it cried out to me. It showed me || a broken mask, repaired by gold on fracture-seams || everything I needed to see; a lifetime of service rewarded.

I do not need to be || afraid || the Speaker any longer. There is no need || for fear, that time has passed || of us, of my peers, of our order.

In the time to come || to make a choice || the Traveler will speak freely. Those who listen will know || the dangers to come ||, and those who know will listen. They are not || forgotten || Speakers, for our time has passed. A new age is dawning, and I wish I would live to see it.

I am the last Speaker, and I am at peace.