I am sorry to say, my good friend, that the nature of this letter is twofold. I write this letter not to berate you, but simply to impart the grave truth. The first thing i must tell you is this:
I have failed you. In your quest to return to your distant home i have allowed passion to overwhelm your sense of scholarship, and i fear it shall be the end of you. I do not expect you to change your ways now. I do not even wish for you to. By now it is far too late, and i feel that is my fault.
In my solitary travels i have discerned that the inherent state of matter is a state of unchanging— that is to say, Preservation is not an explicit element of being, but a passive and natural one. Our powers, then, come not from the presence of a special gift, but through lack of that which might harm us. We are not vaccinated, you see, but rather simply free of disease.
By this i intend to say that our purity, our immortality, does not guard us against harm. In your fervent search you have committed many defiling deeds that would blight your spirit, but which you believe you were protected against. My study has caused me to realize that this belief was held erroneously, and that your demise is now certain.
In so doing you have unleashed horrible powers which jeopardize not only your own life, but those of the entire Table. Perhaps you believed that you would be able to remedy this yourself, but again i remind you that your actions have placed an impending limit on your lifetime. I fear that the duty of repairing the damage you have done in your fruitless search will fall onto my shoulders, and i fear even more deeply that i will be unable to rise to the challenge.
I know that this news, should you choose to accept it as truth, shall only intensify what by now has doubtless escalated to a desperate search. I can understand as much, and do not blame you. But neither will i help you. I refuse to duplicate your fate.
The second thing i have written this letter to address is perhaps less complex, but which i dread to relay even more strongly. I regret to say that this is the last correspondence you shall read by my hand. I fear that from here we must part forever. I wish you good luck in your endeavors, old friend. Should there be a God looking down upon us, i pray with every ounce of my being that he guides you to your home. You deserve to at least live the remainder of your finite days in comfort, your opus realized, your home restored. Your heart whole again. I suppose i will never know whether you achieve this feat or not, but it is beside the point, i think. In spite of it all, i shall always remember you in my heart as a good man, a good scholar, and a good keeper of the peace. I only hope i can fill the shadow you have left me behind.
The shadow of a Sentinel, whose shoulders must support the death of a universe.
My hope goes out to you, friend, but my efforts no longer do. May the wind stay at your heels.