Brother,
By the time you read this, I assume you'll have heard news of what I've done.
Know that I am not writing to ask for your permission - it's far too late for that. I did, however, want to explain myself, in the hopes you will understand the reasons behind my choice.
Pray believe me when I say that if I decided to enroll in the Thaumaturges' guild, it is in no way because I am turning my back on white magic and what it represents.
Conjury made me who I am -
you made me who I am.
I know this to be true and will not ever forget it.
I however find myself also unable to forget the things I have seen in the ruins of Amdapor. I remember when I first heard about them - it was in Camp Tranquil, at dusk. As I watched the sun go down, I saw it disappear behind a chain of sharp, barren mountain peaks surrounded by dead trees, whose bleached branches were ominously creaking in the wind.
I asked Raya-O-Senna to tell me what happened there, and she explained that beneath those mountains lay the entrance to the Lost City of Amdapor, a forsaken ruin from the Fifth Astral Era.
She told me the tale of the Amdapori, the creators of White Magic, the ones you once told me had contributed to the
Sixth Umbral Calamity by consuming too much of the land's aether, incurring the elementals' wrath. I found out there was a little more to it: this happened during something called the War of the Magi, where the White Mages opposed the (now extinct) Black Mages.
Then, a while ago, the seal on those ruins started weakening, and she called on me. She said she was having nightmares of some growing darkness threatening to break free from within and asked me to investigate. Even knowing all of this, I will admit I became very excited to walk the halls of the creators of the very same art
you and I seek to master.
What I found inside, however, was a ruined fortress so overgrown with mold that within minutes, a burning pain had settled in my lungs. I could feel the aether saturating the air as my party and I headed down: stale white magic, fueling this orgy of decay.
At the bottom of the catacombs, locked up behind a row of magestones, my party and I were able to find the source of this growing darkness: Diabolos, a terrifying voidsent lord, sealed away by the last of the White Mages before their demise.
We were able to vanquish him, but as his body disintegrated, I realized his aether felt... odd, somehow. It felt similar to white magic, but unmistakably different too. Like the taste of acorns and walnuts. Is this what black magic feels like? If so, then, I believe it means that the Black Mages of yore summoned Diabolos to take Amdapor down from within... To secure victory in a fruitless war that nobody won.
While I do wonder how anyone could ever resort to such a vile strategy, what I really want to know is why
you never spoke of this.
I'm convinced that you knew about the imprisoned Diabolos. You may not remember it, but when I first came to the guild, I asked you where conjury came from. This was your answer:
"
Know that our art is but a bloom cut from the most wonderful of gardens. We must hold the bloom dear, for there is a snake in the garden... and we can never return."
Those esoteric words of yours had to be speaking of Amdapor. But why keep this history secret from me, and from Raya-O? I can only think it's because you're trying to hide something about what transpired there.
I wonder what the truth is... Why you fear it so.
I'm sorry if I sound harsh - you must have reasons for your silence. Please understand, however, that I don't want to walk my path blindly anymore. I need to know all I can about white magic so that next time fate calls on me, I can meet it with open eyes.
In a nutshell, this is why I decided to join the Thaumaturges. Thaumaturgy is to black magic what conjury is to white magic: an attenuated, pale version of a lost art, which should nonetheless suffice to confirm my suspicions. The Arrzaneth Ossuary also holds the realm's best collection of books on demons and voidsent - I hope to gain access to their volumes and learn more about Diabolos and the War of the Magi.
Brother, even if you disapprove of my quest, know that you will always have a friend in me. If Gridania is ever in danger, you need only ask a Moogle. They know how to find me.
Your ever faithful student,
Lalli the White
