At an awful hour of the night, five letters and a large sum of coins are delivered to the monk by the name of Spike Vondar. A daisy is tucked neatly in the pile, smiling its bright smile for him to see when he chooses to pick them up. "Forgetting is an important part of life, and I would go as far to say that it is equal to that of the notion of death. As any good dedicant learns early on in their teachings, death is an important part of the balance of nature. To remove death is to remove the meaning of life, for if you cannot die or will not die, why do you live? And with that, if certain memories are unable to fade away how does your mental state survive? As normal person, the number of observations and memories made in one passing second is tremendous. Somehow we are able to forget the majority of this sensory overload and continue on, but what if a person then had their ability to feel enhanced? Whispers, heartbeats, rustles, the whole cocophony of sound nature produces speaking right to your mind, skipping the need to even work its way through your ear. Unnatural in the most natural sense." "I must have failed somewhere... Perhaps when I chose to abuse my gift in the place of my missing eye for sight, or perhaps when I chose to try and talk with that around me on too regular a basis. Either way, I believe I would consider it a failure. My optimism cannot break even that belief, for certain truths hold fast even in different mental perceptions. Being unable to deal with this... failure, I choose to remove myself from the agony of forgetting and admit myself into the cycle of life. Perhaps these messy words will disappear and never make it to whom I want to reach, but to satisfy my own desire, I will write them and leave them with someone whom I place great trust in to deliver." "There are far too many to remember, say goodbye, or give thanks. Instead I will give a few groups I remember what best I can, in hopes that they can drink away any ill feelings they might have from this unfortunate news. Perhaps self-righteous of me to say such, and perhaps I am oblivious to other feelings you all might have of me, but regardless I shall make these final gifts.1,000 Minas to Mister Spike, to deliver all this in my stead, if you feel obliged.1,000 Minas to the Deathsbanes, if they can be found.1,000 Minas to my grandfather, if he is not dead.1,000 Minas to the Druids, use it to buy ale.1,000 Minas to Mithius, keep quiet.Sincerely,Eliza"