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“What is the point?”
“Is there really a need for these records anymore?”
“Haven’t you wasted enough time?”
“With the relic out of our hands, this chapter should be closed for good.”
An elder lalafellin man sighed as he tucked a book back into place. They stood in a library of sorts, filled with all sorts of knowledge and historical records pertaining not only to city of Treno, not even only about the Mist Continent itself! But tucked in a corner specifically labeled for the “Milalla” were a number of books and records of everything their people accomplished… as well as their failures.
He slid his finger atop the spines of each one, as if recounting their value and how much precious data they stored within their pages. From old record keepers before him, who were tasked with the very sacred duty of keeping track of Milalla pursuits and advancement in the world. Of their accomplishments, their inventions, their provisions to society as a whole since traveling beyond the rift and arriving upon this unknown world.
Though most importantly were those in regards to the Speaker’s Legacy. They pertained not only to the one and only who had guided her people here for survival from the frost, but also of those before and after her presence in time. Records from before Loquloqui’s birth were of little note—the Speakers of those days knew naught but paradise and peaceful days. Those after Loquloqui’s passing suffered tenfold in comparison. They were given the impossible task of leading her people in a completely new world whilst needing to follow the laws of their old. No longer was it as simple as rounding the whole island up, for their people had begun to scatter over the years to other city-states far beyond their reach.
It was up to a select few of counsel who the Speaker of that time period could count upon to keep everything held together. The Speaker would decree while the counsel would record history’s passing. With each new heir came a new attempt at turning to their old home of paradise and subsequent recording of failure. Time and time again. Over and over. Praying fervently for their people to find a way back home, only for the task to be kicked down the road to the next heir. So too did the counsel overseeing this endeavor dwindle one after the other. Till only one house remained their sole support.
The very same role Nolon had held all his life. A role which now faced an impasse, as the sacred relic that was promised to be their people’s saving grace had now fallen into the hands of another. The Speakers had given up. They saw no reason in continuing this suffering that may never end. It was better left to the past and to accept that they will always remain residents of this star, for who among them could recall an ancestral home they had never lived to know? And that none of their family had ever known or cared to remember.
“It is not without merit to trace back to our origins…”
That was the reason Nolon stayed regardless of the questions. Some may think him clinging to a useless title of no worth, but he had spent his lifetime serving the Speaker heirs regardless. Getting to know them, their potential heirs, and the current Miayli who ever strived for the people still here. Still fighting to their last breath to survive in this world of unending lightning. How many times had they prayed upon the key to finally take them back when this calamity first struck? Countless. So many attempts and pleas to take them elsewhere from the storm. Cries that would go unanswered… and so they pressed on.
As each book was counted upon and confirmed present, Nolon stepped outside and stared up at the barrier with tired eyes. Mayhap he be the last to etch the ending of their times. He prayed otherwise, but he would continue his job till the very end. Much like everyone else, he still had the will to push for awhile longer.