Letter to the Church (Head)

To my dearest brother in trials, the Abbot Kuavei.

Love and blessings of my heart pour upon you as the Katani’s waters. Drink of their purity, beloved, for I pen in truth my words to succour your spirit. No apprehension ought nestle as it does in your soul, indeed, have no fear of the Beast. Hear me and trust in my well-tested lips. It is not your sheep that the monster will poach, but a cantankerous goat. Open the gates of your fold to him, and it shall be to you as to all Abbots: across your field will bloom the primrose, and your apples shall grow without worms, for no disobedient roe tramples them or chews them up young.

When the sparrow pecks the locust, celebrate, my dear! A profligate damned beyond exile lurks in your fold even more stealthily than the abomination that you know to fear. Let that profligate be erased as anathema. That is the unholy ministry of that sanctified ghoul Mephi tel-Sharvara.

I will speak more of this one, my love, to balm your heart and prepare you for meeting. He is no polite creature, but he is fettered. He cannot go after the meek. He is indeed dead, and indeed a ghoul, but by the grace of Czjeir he is anointed—to retain his psyche even past death. This is not a witch, but a full human and a full ghoul. Treat him fully as a man, but know he is by nature too a bloodthirsty ghoul. Flinch not when he curses. You will understand the twists of this mystery once you have met him.

Praise ever to the dominion of the Mighty One who makes good out of even the ghouls! Praise to the Lambent Lord of the Long Night, who even through death lives to blanket us with mercies! Praise to He who is gracious even to the ghouls, and the Master who balms the sting of Shien! There is no perfection found but in our Lord Czjeir, whose miracles are seen too in Mephi. Watch him closely once you meet, beloved. The blaze of edification for your faith shall be as a torchlight.

Who the Beast was as a man is still pertinent, love. He will deceive you of all there is to say of himself. He is higher bred than he looks, wealthier than he acts, and smarter than his stumbling tongue belies; and aware of the apparent deficits to cunningly exploit any gap you impose. You may impose one, but do not. I will tell you of his whole identity.

He is the son of Ureyah tel-Sharvara, the former Minister of Agricultural Finance in our realm of Kardesh. Already I hear your surprise! I too speak as one who knew Ureyah, that man virtued to arete in his wit and his charity, and know your gasp, “that is his son!?”. It is his son. You may squint for the glimpses of him, but do not. Ureyah’s path was not followed by Mephi. The boy deviated into occultism after his father passed, petty as a practitioner, adept as a researcher. I know and seek to know little of what he learned in this period; what I do know, I write not to you.

He hails from Vamu, but his living is rich. He has not suffered a single indignity as hunger, sickness, impoverishment, or shortness of means to pursue his desires. Do not be deceived. How he presents and what he pursues is exactly within his desires. It is a principle of occultism that he is so outwardly plain; it is to conceal the motives underneath. If he seems starved, he does not seek meat. If he seems miserable, he is playing a game. There is dark and powerful magic cycling around this young man, but again, do not fear it. He cannot use it against anyone except himself. It is even what killed him, and its form was a noose.

He is a graduate of Clearwater University in Amsherrat, in the degree of Economic Science. Again I hear your gasp. Indeed, beloved, that is a field overseen by the Church, and he is first-anointed in the secular way. Beyond so, in his postgraduate study he achieved standards that assembled him ready to receive the title of Dux. He maintained so even in years wherein his degree languished unused. To speak of pure academics, he would have eclipsed his father in prowess. Dear Kuavei, he is not unintelligent, and you must not forget that. He is simply diseased.

In humility’s spirit hear now that Mephi, of men, is more intelligent than you. I speak not to offend, but to ward you, for your blade against even the greatest sophist and apostate is always in the scripture. Knit the great verses of Czeresh and Phisikel into your heart. These shall protect you.

Yes, my beloved, you shall need protection. Czjeir releases the Beast against villains, and if you admit yourself culpable, or stumble into the rhetoric of flesh, his venomous tongue will beguile you into sinning. If you are of sin, you are his. That is the one danger of Mephi tel-Sharvara, and that is the test his profanities lay before Abbots. None have failed, beloved, and you shan’t fail, for the fidelity of your heart towards Czjeir is impeccable. If even Shien cannot judge you, Mephi is naught but a howling jackal.

Blessed are you with the armaments that can destroy Mephi; but do not. Blessed are you to encounter God’s anointed; but he is not. Blessed are you beyond blessings to see Czjeir’s claws reflected before you. May your love for Him ever deepen.

I append for you a listing of victims in the past years, to illume what depth of criminal garners the ruling of anathema, that light may show, your sheep are not this.

From your ever friend, fellow Abbot on the path, and ally to Heaven.

Bless you to know evermore the lip of your arete.