Letters to Indigo

Who am I even talking to?

This diary is where I confess my secrets, but who hears them? A blank tablet of wood? What's the point of confessing if there's nobody to hear you?

I'm lonely.

Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of friends, I guess, but the ones who mattered most are gone now. Everything's hollow without them. Madeleine is my friend, in a way, but she's a lot older than I am. She's more of a mother than a friend. On the other hand, there's always her, but there's still so much strangeness between us. Ever since the Reunion, there's a lot that goes unanswered. I'm still adjusting to studying as a Song-Keeper. She's still learning how to be The Alder. I can't really talk to her. Not yet.

So who can I talk to? He's gone, and my mother... well. I don't know how to bridge that gulf. I know she loves me, that she's proud of me. But after Cyrus and the fight at the Marina, she's seemed so... hollow. She's moving to a smaller place just east of Ornith's Pier. I haven't visited her there yet. I'm scared to.

It doesn't matter. Nothing good for me is going to be found back with the People of the Wheel. I know that. My home is here now, in the Wood. I'm okay with that, mostly. But it gets lonely sometimes. Everyone here, they think I'm strong somehow. They look to me, they call me "Fireborn," call me "hero," but if they only knew how weak I really am, they'd turn away. I know they would. There's only one person who ever let me bring my guard down, let me be weak, even for a moment. And I haven't seen her since I was twelve.

So like I said, all I have to confess to is you.

Shia'Epri... I'm so stupid. I can't do this, I can't just tell my secrets to a blank journal, to folds of wood and bark. I have to tell it to someone. I need a name, some name, any name. I need someone I can trust. I need you to be my ear, my friend.

That girl...the one I haven't seen since I was twelve? She's dead now, but a long time ago there was a girl, and she was smart, and strong, and beautiful, and she took me in when nobody else would. She was young like me, and late at night she'd speak to me in our native language. When the other Children made fun of me, whispered cruel things about me, she stepped in, stood up for me, taught me how to fight, how to be strong. She was the best friend I've ever had. She died for me. She died for us. She was the strongest person I've ever known, and in the dark part of my life, when I've had nobody else, I prayed to her memory and listened for her voice in my heart, taking her guidance. She's the only reason I'm strong. She was my friend, she was my hero, my sister. She's the one I need to be telling these things to.

She was the one I could trust to hold my secrets.

Wintergreen's looking at me weird--I just started laughing out of nowhere. I can't help it. It makes me happy. Why am I moping? It's decided. From now on, when I write to you, I'll call you Dharani--Indigo. You'll be my silent place, the one I open up to. When I write to you, I'll tell you all about the world that's changed, so you can look back in on your friends and see them. I like to think that'd make you happy. I always liked making you happy. You're the only person I can open up to. You're the only person I can trust. I know you're gone, but maybe this way I can keep a small part of you in my life. Maybe you'll look at what you see, and be proud of me. I want you to be proud of me.

These are my letters to you, Indigo.