Met you as my sister spoke of a stellar man,
Found a friend -- a gentle, genuine kind.
One ever-lasting...
In the often-empty halls of the Citadel,
Where not one shelf was oft left behind.

Somnustra's walls knew your steps,
where we lingered, and shared, and laughed, memories fed.
Often, in the 920s and beyond, I'd hear it... soft
the shuffle of books held aloft,
taken ever so gently from their dust-born sleep.

Khalayx is back, I'd whisper to myself
My friend, my friend, have you seen and read this book today?
And youd often share words that make the curious sing their horrays.
You said life was grand when things were found --
All meant to keep, be bound.

Lunastra, Ethian, Noxtra all grew fond.
Silence was a friend in our little bond.
You spoke no words without thought, without weight --
but leapt into battle like it couldn't dare wait.

As much as you'd plunge through blood, steel, and spell,
"I aim to be the best by trying, the best magi of all" -- I remember this well.
With the very occasional grin, an honourable man

You were loved by your comrades.
By scholars.
By questioning minds.

By friends.
By family
You are loved.
You are loved.

You believed in the city, in the Shadows, in Dreams, and in Stars,
You challenged Sapience, spoke words meant for the world to grow.
You believed in those you hadn't met,
In your comrades,
Your kin,
And in me --
never would I forget,
nor would we.

The most noble Grook, Hashani
Magi.
Scholar.
Friend.
Who lived --
and believed.

You live.
You are loved.
Eternal.



Penned by my hand on the 12th of Valnuary, in the year 975 AF.