Letter found in Flangel the Wise's journal. Dated two years ago, the 1423rd year of the Sun.

  Flangyl,

  It has indeed been far too long since I last received a letter from you. My aides tell me that it has been a whole decade, though I scarcely believe it. Time seems to slip away unnoticed when I think of how often we used to exchange correspondence. Those were simpler days, were they not? A more insecure friend might wonder if they had been forgotten, but I, of course, am not so foolish as to let such thoughts linger. Still, one cannot help but wonder at the silence.

  Yes, yes. I know what you are indubitably thinking right now. "How convenient the timing. Clayton must have heard about Netty." And to answer: I have. Now, before you accuse me of reaching out only for that reason, let me first offer my congratulations—albeit belated—on your granddaughter being named the Prodigy. A most impressive achievement, though I suspect my letter will arrive well after the official celebrations have ended. Nevertheless, this news has certainly been cause for reflection on my end. It warms my heart to know that the legacy of such a Title is now passed to an Oasian, particularly one from your own bloodline.

  But I digress. There is a matter of greater import that weighs on my mind, one that I must address before I let my thoughts wander further. What is this I hear about Netty going without the "y" in her name? Surely this was not your idea? I understand that we live in a world where many wish to forget or downplay their origins, but surely you—of all people—must recognize the folly in trying to sever ties with our history. To erase the "y" from her name, to conceal her roots, to deny her Oasian heritage—it seems utterly ridiculous. You know as well as I do that the very essence of who we are cannot be hidden, no matter how one might try. It is in our blood, in our bones, and it will always find its way to the surface. You are too wise to be led astray by misguided notions. I know you have lived far from our homeland, but you cannot abandon it, and neither should she. Oasis needs her, just as it needs you.

  And this is the main reason I am writing to you. Not for Netty, but to ask for you to come home. Oasis needs you. Your home needs you.

  I must admit, when you left, I thought your departure was unjustifiable. I may have been wrong, but my feeling then was that you ran from us, perhaps out of fear of the future that seemed to await us. But now, after three centuries, I can no longer be so kind in my judgment. You left us. And I believe—though you may take offense at my bluntness—that you did so to clear your conscience, to rid yourself of the weight of a responsibility you could not bear. That was then, and this is now. We stand at a crossroads.

  The same issues that plagued us when you fled are still with us, perhaps even worse. The water shortage continues to be our most dire problem, and while I have done all I can to alleviate the crisis, the future we feared has arrived. The people of Oasis are still facing the looming threat of starvation, and the promise of water remains elusive. The Lord has charged us, the Stewards, to seek solutions, but our attempts have yielded little beyond temporary relief. The pressure mounts as the demand grows, and I fear for the very future of our people.

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  To that end, I have begun the distasteful negotiations with the Empire of the Sun in order to seek help. The Chancellor has seemed quite sympathetic during our correspondence.

  However, I do not put it past the Bloody Prince's reputation to leave us to our predicament. It is not too late for you to return. You still have a chance to apply your greatest invention for good. The SunFlower could provide all of the aura we need for efficiently recycling what meager water we have, and from there we can do so much more. You could be known as the man who helped Oasis overcome its limitations.

  I am not blind to the cost of your decision, nor am I ignorant of the sacrifices it would entail. But I am asking you, Flangyl, as both a friend and a fellow Oasian: Return. The stakes could not be higher.

  On a more personal note, I feel compelled to remind you of the suffering we are enduring. There are those who call it "blood jade," in reference to the cost we bear in our pursuit of resources. But I find it to be a misnomer. The greatest strides humanity has made were never achieved without sacrifice. We all bleed for progress, and that is what we are doing now. I do not ask you to overlook the price we pay, but to consider the greater good we can achieve together. You have the means to change everything. You have only to choose to act. Why hinder progress with negative connotations? It certainly has not stopped you from buying jade, and I hear you have been hard at work advancing the realms of alchemy.

  If you need a reminder of what it means to stay stubborn, I will see to it that the mursashu deliver a list of the death tolls to you with each shipment of jade.

  Looking at what I have written so far, I can see that I indulged too much in giving you a piece of my mind. So here is the hand of friendship: I will see to it that any of your requests are met, including all the processed jade you could want. I know half of Techoria's yearly import of jade is being routed to your workshop, and I will see to it that this continues. Additionally, your granddaughter will have all she could ever want or desire. Our Lord is keen on nurturing the newest Prodigy's talents. I believe he intends to adopt her as a foster daughter if you would allow it. I am certain you understand the value for her if she grows up under the Lord's care.

  I am also certain you will find these arrangements acceptable, and I am always happy to make more accommodations for you. There is a cask of moonwine I have yet to open because it has your name on it.

  Your old friend,

  Clayton

  Steward of Oasis

  P.S. I understand you alchemists have somehow all developed a horrible naming sense, but I confess my surprise that you have yet to rename Techoria after our last correspondence. I can only imagine you enlisted a child's sense for onomastics. Have you considered why Zaem can attract more talent despite their Council not having an alchemist of your reputation? Their Council was wise enough to enlist a Scholar of onomatology, one who promptly rejected their idea to name their City "Machinima." Can you imagine?

  Before you return, please consider spearheading a name change. This is an honest plea from a friend. I wince every time I see it on my map.

  Shards of Imagination, a collaboration anthology of short stories with a writer friend, Ariane D'artagnan!

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