Dearest Mother

My mission was a success Mother. Evgenii, your daughter, my sister, was rescued and myself redeemed in the eyes of the the Ram Lord.
Before you read the rest of this letter I have a favor to ask of you. Go now, to my siblings, through letter or in person whichever is possible, request they write every story they can remember of father, every great feat he accomplished. Then I want you to do the same, I realized we cannot let his story go untold, he was humble and kind, he would've loathed the idea of his works being written down for the world to see, but his life is beyond himself now. He could serve as inspiration and a guide to future generations of abolitionists. Once you have done that task or started it at the very least, read the rest of this letter.
I came face to face with Kastigar himself, I stabbed him but I didn't bother going for the killing blow, knowing that even if I successfully killed him he would just be revived by his comrades later. But I have more important news for you and the rest of the family, Kavaki picked me to be a champion on his behalf, the greatest sign of my devotion made manifest, and in the grand competition he appointed me for I emerged victorious and defeated Dadrurom, not only killing him but rending his soul apart. He was a worshipper and cleric of Loviatar, a goddes of pain and torture. I initially feared the worst for Evgenii but I can confidently report that she wasn't tortured and seemed to be placed into a magically induced coma through the entire ordeal.
Moreska was not so fortunate. I will not describe the state me and Cicero found him in, but it was worse than anything I saw or did in Ishval. He gave me some more information on Kastigar but more importantly he gave me advice. He told me to stay close to my friends and allies, but to also make sure I spend more time with my family. I wish I could take that advice, I want nothing more than to spend my days with my siblings, but it seems I've destined myself to the path of righteous abolition. I know I'm a disappointment of a son, doing the last thing Father wanted for us, but I cannot sit idly by while evils like Kastigar taint the ground we walk on.
I know you probably wish me to come home and give up on my path, or take a break at the very least, but just as wickedness knows no sleep, I cannot let my vigilance falter, especially now that I've found myself in this existential wrestling match with the Great Enemy. It would be selfish of me to not at least try to use my gifts to break the chains and return our people's dignity. That being said, I have some memories I'd like to reminisce on with you.
 
I remember when I first started living with you and father, I'd often find myself unable to trance because I'd have these terrible sobbing episodes. You must've been concerned beyond belief, and frustrated that I wouldn't let you or any of the other Alleeva women come close to me during them. Oskana seemed so tired all the time, even as a small(er?) child I could recognize I was causing turmoil in your wonderful family, and for that I felt even more immense shame, I felt undeserving of such a kind and compassionate group of people. But as I learned more about father's past, read the philosophies Uncle Kaz gave to me, and spent time with Evgenii that shame changed into anger and frustration. Anger that people on the surface could be just as evil as those in the Underdark, and frustration that I couldn't do anything about it. I remember reading some works by Rennyn Vaelhorn that Uncle Kaz gave me, it described a theoretical path to enlightenment for an entire population, it argued that if a group was put under enough strain and oppression that said group would revolt against their oppressors and re-create their home to reflect their personal paradise. At the time I saw this as my way of helping people, given that slavery and torture were still felt freshly on my skin. Gods sometimes when I close my eyes even now I feel their daggers slowly gliding along my stomach to my hips. I swore that I would try my best to ensure that as few children of the future as possible would need to feel shame and suffering like I did down in that wretched hole, so off to Ishval I went.
That desert lives in every crevice of my mind, what was once a lush garden of wonder and comfort, is now a dry sea of sand and death, a constant drum of war bellowing in my skull. Although even to this day I believe the war against Ishval to be just, Amatrace has deployed unforgivable tactics, and I was one of them. I dare not go into detail in such an unguarded letter, and it is not relevant to the point I am going to make. I started as a young boy looking to make a positive difference in the world, and I left a fiend, someone undeserving of the love you and father gave me. I had mentally trapped myself in that desert and it is a cage that still painfully binds me today. What allowed me take the first steps towards my own freedom was one of my last assignments before father's death. I was in a relatively large town called As Sarawi disguised as a body guard to a wealthy and religiously significant merchant called Hamdi. He was a kind man, he made lots of money but spent most of it on helping those around him, he treated me like an equal, and most importantly he was a good father. He reminded me of Oskana in many aspects, he often said "One always has a choice my son". His sons were 13 and 8, Karim and Aziz respectively, they were good boys too. In fact most of my assignments from him were to protect them, so I spent most of my time watching over them. Karim loved to play spy with me, I taught him how to sneak up on the kitchen women and where to hide if people are actively looking for you. Aziz was a bundle of excitement, he was as energetic as he was loud. He was nicknamed "Alsurakh Qalilan" (little shouter) and he had a curious fascination with people's faces. He would always insist on feeling my scars or the some worker's (Hamdi refused to call them servants) smiling face. I, of course, was never under any illusions of why I was really there, eventually I would have to kill Hamdi, I had done worse and I could certainly do it again. He was aiding the guerilla fighters after all, supplying them with weapons and armor that was killing my battle-brothers. The night I received the order everything was in place, the kids were in bed, the workers had went home, the only ones left awake in the house was me, Hamdi, and another guard by the name of Abdul Raham, I killed him painlessly and with very little effort. Hamdi was in his night room drinking tea and reading from his scriptures. All he did was give me a smile and ask me of my own future; "You plan on having kids yourself? They're a handful but I can tell you'd be a great father Cazinogo" and then it was over. Everyone would be wondering how it happened, whispers of the Black Dragon would spread, fear of the silent and formless death would settle into the population, stories of the faceless fiend that could kill anyone with just a thought. I thought it would end there as most jobs did, but I received additional orders, "Destroy all evidence you were ever there". Damned myself that night, robbed this world of a beautiful family. That was the night I accepted what had been gnawing away at my psyche, in this desert I was not the slave child screaming and pleading for them to stop, I was the one holding the knife. Father's death was the last cut to my face I needed to say blast it and return home.
 
Everytime I recall that mission I'm reminded of my time spent in the Underdark. I remember it in flashes mostly, the long jagged scars that blemish my body and mind heat up in pain, but sometimes I can still remember their faces. Women, more ancient than the oldest humans, delighting in my screams of pain, becoming euphoric when I whimpered. The woman who gave birth to me didn't care, she knew it was happening and chose to let it continue. The few times I saw her she was always looking at me with disgust. The night I remember most clearly was the night I decided to fight back. Just after one of these women got done 'having her fun' and was cleaning herself up, I hit her over the head with a stone. Now I've never been strong, and 8 year old me was no exception, she likely barely felt it, nonetheless she decided to try and break me for my audacity. I could write in great detail exactly what each bone in your hand feels like when its snapped because of that night, but I also remember the pain wasn't so bad, I felt so much pride in myself that day, I finally knew that fighting back was an option, I would meditate on the moment the stone hit her head every night for months. It was that memory that gave me the strength to eventually kill my birth giver and become free alongside my first father. Enough dwelling on distant memories though.
 
I was the only one to hear Moreska's last words, and I was the one he tasked with ending his suffering. He apologized for making me do it, but in that moment, for some strange reason, I felt serene. I used a new technique on him, it was literally instant and painless, imagine you are going about your day as normal then you blink and you're in heaven. I was glad I could end my uncle's pain, give him the eternal retirement he deserves, I know him and father are butting heads once again probably raising an army just to see who can lift the most weight or throw a log the furthest. He passed the burden of our family name unto me, and I must continue father's work. You must have faith and trust in me mother, even if it is not I who tears down the walls of Kastigar's citadel, I will ensure the next one to take the mantle has a clear path to victory.
 
Feel free to read this letter to Egor and save it for the others, whether you do that or not though I will leave to your discretion.
 
The Wind that Comes Down from the Mountains
Passes in the Meadows
That is why the Wind is Free