Agony of Want

Twin Bird wrote often of the gift of want. To want is to suffer nobly, and to obtain is to extinguish the fire of pursuit.

I reflect now on my own wants. I want the City freed. I want the Light eliminated. I want the Traveler smoldering with a meteor through its center. I want my family whole. And yet, when I reach for my desires, I grasp only fog.

VI showed me everything I ever wanted, only to chide it would not come to pass. Then he left. No thank-yous, no good-byes. I tried to follow him. Flew to Pan, to his innermost moon. I waited there for days, demanding an explanation. I yelled until I was hoarse; I slammed my fist so hard the metal dented the console. Nothing. Part of me hoped Lume would answer my invitation to join me on Pan. Even called the Emissary (useless snake—I am a fool to try to appease a liar). Finally, in the silence of his absence, I realized the reality of my privation: I wanted many things, but I did not want VI to return.

There is nothing left. I am the conduit through which all futures flow, which is to say, I am a vessel. Which is to say, I am empty.

Now I sit, journal in hand, in Bonnet Plaza. Left my helmet, let down my hood; with VI's alterations, no one would recognize me anyway. Let them stare. Screw it. Maybe she will still be here. I don't care if she doesn't know who I am. I want to see her.

It's the only want that remains.