So after much deliberation- and some affirmation from Lee- I've decided to post this rather short, super emotional story. Please use discretion when ready as it covers a wild range of topics and implies heavier themes such as mental illness and suicide.
This is a touch different than my usual writing style, as it is more emotional and personal to me than some of what I write. Bear with me. Haha. Much love and appreciation to everyone who decides to read it.
Talos Guide You!
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Wretched life of mine! Hated and scorned by world and soul, I prayed for seasons upon seasons for a relief until my eyes could cry no longer and my voice cracked at every syllable. Divines, why do you not answer? Holy Ones, why do you ignore my pleas? Have I not done all you asked? Have I not been your faithful? I carry your will to the ends of Nirn, I spread your Holy Words and speak of your healing powers. Yet in these moments I scream, tormented, for I can not find the relief I promise to the masses. Gods above, I have done all I can. For now I forsake you as you have forsaken me.
Akatosh, Chief of Gods, Keeper of Time and Father of Dov, I forsake thee. You alone granted us time, constant yet limited. We see an eternity stretched behind and before us, yet we are a vapor in your breath. Our nature is to be and do more and, in your cruel fate, you limit us to see only the present. We are second to your Children, the Beasts of the Skies. They are not bound by the punishments of your time- the pain of aging, the heartbreak of loss. They experience an ever presence and laugh at our limitations. Oh, Dragon God, I forsake thee so that I may no longer be bound by the torments of loss and humiliations of shortsight.
Kynareth, Goddess of Winds and Seas, Perserver of Nature and Life, I forsake thee. The first to be decieved by Lorkan, your blunder gave us our plane of life. You poured your heart into Nirn, expertly fine-tuning each aspect of existence into a fragile balance. Void became air, air split into sea, sea gave way to land. You filled the barren with flora and fauna, creating such a beauty that had never been seen before. But your lands are hostile. The Frozen North and Scourched Easts burn my skin in opposite and equal intensities. Your herbs promise healing and deliver poisons. Your beasts hunt us, an echo of your call to conquer or be conquered. You laugh at our existence. How small we are in comparison to your world. Great Kyne, I forsake thee so I may no longer fear this cold, beautiful world.
Talos, Hero God of Old, Founder of Empires and Defender of Men, I forsake thee. You were once like I, bound by the same pains and trials of mortality. You suffered at the hands of the selfish Divinities but escaped your inevitable fate by becoming one! You beckon us to become like you, perfect and blameless among the stars, knowing well we shall never achieve such a feat. A ending of unattainable perfection, a call to become what we cannot, draws me to envy. Why should we Abandoned rely on the one who left us in longing? You embody everything I loathe about myself, yet ascended beyond what I could ever become. Traitor God, I forsake thee so I may no longer dwell on what I am and what I cannot be.
Zenithar, God of Trade, Preserver of Commerce and Commander of Labor, I forsake thee. You bid us toil among creation to make it our own. The sweat on our brow and blood on our hands is the sweetest nectar on your tongue. We spent Mundus' light slaving away in our trades and in its absence we count our meager gains. You have secured us to never gain more, to never climb from our holes of poverty except to fulfill a whim of your heart. Your elite give praises for the blessings within lavished mansions; your poor cry out with hungry bellies in their squalor. It is pleasing in your eyes, for not all can be without need. God of Gold, I forsake thee so I may no longer live in depravity and fear of going without.
Dibella, Goddess of Arts, Temptress of Morality and Crowner of Beauty, I forsake thee. How cursed it is to live in a world of your creation! Never beautiful enough to catch the eyes of man, never reserved enough to fall out of lusty gazes, your twisted games plague my every thought. Like fools we let ourselves be sculpted by your fingertips and led astray by the whisperings of your voice. We are your art, you tell us. We become what you want; you want hearts to lust, to never be satisfied. Your influence has us drained by attempts of self-perfection. Your longings has us fearing the lusts of others around us. Dark Temptess, I forsake thee so that I may no longer wrestle with the impurities of my body and mind.
Mara, Wife God of Akatosh, Lender of Compassion and Encourager of Love, I forsake thee. Your tears of grace cover the masses though you spare no drop for me. I scream out in nights of isolated silence for the touch of your hand or breath of your lips. Where are you, Compassionate One, when I am all alone in the coldest void of this world? When I cry, the tears endlessly flowing like the wildest of rivers, you hide your face from me. Of all Divines, I bid you come, take my heartache and cast it into the farthest plane of Oblivion. Yet you watch me, emotionless, as I rip the hair from my head and skin from my bones. A touch of sympathy, an ounce of love, a drop of grace from your boundless fount would be all I need. You refuse to see my face. Cruellest Mother, I forsake thee so that I may no longer need the love and acceptance you dangle tantalizingly out of my reach.
Julianos, God of Knowledge, Highest of Mages and Keeper of Sound Judgment, I forsake thee. Vast wisdoms you give to your people so they might tackle each day with a fair chance. Your mercy is to give us knowledge, but your curse is to give us too much. We become far too aware of the crisis of our mortality. This world will end, cruel and irreversible. We are nothing but hopeless pawns on the Divine chess board as the battle against a greater evil transpires beyond. We will fall as you see fit; we will rise again when you pull our ashes from Aetherious. How can I keep my mind sound when these thousand perils swirl around in an endless cyclone? My anxieties give way to hopeless melancholy with each passing moment I realize how powerless a creature I truly am. They manifest voices in my ears and shadows in my eyes at the worst of time. I cry at their absent presence. This is not the sound mind you promised me. This is worse than the Touch of Madness. God of Omnipresent Whisperings, I forsake thee so that I may be released from my afflictions of knowledge and disease of mind.
Stendarr, God of Mercy, Crusader of Holy Wars and Pardoner of Sins, I forsake thee. Justice be swift to the deserving, but Great Divine grant mercy to those who ask! I am a monster with no cure. My desires are evil even when performing the good. I want to be Holy. I want my hands to heal and my words to comfort. These desires of wickedness are nothing you cannot take from me, but you simply watch in amusement. How fragile we must appear to you. You wait as a father with whip in hand for his child to return home, wanting to carry out poetic justice. I cannot help who I am! I cannot be better than the worms of this world! I hate my evil heart. I ask for relief from my sins and direction in the ways of righteousness, and your response is the cracking of the whip. Father of Punishment, I forsake thee so that I may be free of this burden of guilt and self-loathing.
Arkay, God of The End, Gateman of Aetherious and Lord of Mortality, I forsake thee. You are the prologue of our existence, wrapping up every loose end of our stories with a single act. Your hand is swift and decisive, drawing fear from the masses as they watch you pass by their doors in the dead of night. I am among the few who no longer fear your embrace. Blinding Shadow, I pray to meet you, a prayer you have ignored for mortal years. So determined to rip life from those still fighting for breath but hesitant to take the hand of one who wants you, your ways are as frustrating as they are mysterious. I want nothing more than to leave this miserable world you Divines have left us in, and you refuse me as a noble to a beggar. In the secrets of the night, we make plans to meet at last, yet you never show. I will not let you pass me by again. Author of Death, I forsake thee so that I no longer be bound to your rules of mortality and can once again hold my fate in my own hands.
My grievances dispelled, I leave this letter to you Nine. A servant for ceaseless years, I now free myself from this Oblivion on Nirn you have created. No longer a puppet of your realities, no longer a victim of your games, I release myself from your services. May I find peace in the absence of You. May I never again feel this pain.
-Asuriel, the Priestess of None
[This letter was found in a cave in Northern Cyrodiil along with the body of a long deceased monk. Despite the weathering of time, the parchment remained largely untouched. Along with the body, amulets of all Nine Divines were laid out as makeshift altars, surrounded by candles that had been burned out for years. A dagger was found nearby, but time has made it impossible to know the cause of her death. The body and artifacts have been transported to the Synod for further research.]