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Video: Act 3 Scene 3, Tune of the Tides

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Tristan Delzole

I will be honest: never before have I thought that my friendship with Tristan could cause me so much grief. What he did at the Quiet Order was painful enough, but now... Though I may have survived the ordeal, I am unsure if I can say the same about our friendship - it was tested, but I believe it has failed us both.

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Lucia Shuria

Of course the Lady would choose her as her pawn. Her conviction - the one thing that separated her from the rest of us, has proven to be her undoing. It has been twisted and corrupted and is now being used by the Lady. It frustrates me, because I can see in her eyes her belief that what she is doing is right, and knowing her, that belief ranks among the most immovable things in the world. But I must try to shake it, still.

There must be some way I can convince her that what she is doing is wrong, someway I can make her see.

I know not what the way into her heart and mind is, but I must try to find it for her sake.

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The Lady

Lucia is right. I believe her. I believe that the Lady is Dimenticate, that she is of the old world, that she knows more than we do. I cannot run from that any longer.

My worry now does not revolve around the authenticity of Lucia's claim, but rather our response to it. How are we going to fight something that exists on a different plane altogether?

Whatever it is, the fact that she has not destroyed us completely despite her powers must count for something. Dwelling on this isn't going to bring forth any answers; we must keep looking forward.

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Salting

My father always used to tell me that all things in the world were fair. I don't believe I have quite come to agree with the sentiment, although I do appreciate that he was trying to sweeten our lot in life with his words. I will, however, agree with that point when it comes to power in this world. Always, there are consequences to wielding power, losses that come in various forms. It is no different with Mascherines.

Despite the abilities that Mascherines bestow, tapping too deeply into the powers of a Mascherine has crippling side effects. There is a threshold that the Vegilus have come to identify, crossing which a Masquerada undergoes a process called Salting, named so because of how apparently similar the effects are to overdosing on a drug called Stone Salt. The effects differ marginally from case to case, but in general when a Masquerada Salts, their mind is rent and torn apart. Few recover enough to continue functioning normally; no victims have ever had the process reversed.

Why, exactly, we Salt is - like many other aspects of the Mascherines - unknown, but the Vegilus have shown that it is possible to, through practice of the Media, push back one's Salting point.

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The fey has been created. I have sent it out to find our next lead, and I am certain it will return.

It has been a while since I have penned in detail our exploits, but the weight of a heavy heart is not confined to the breast. I now must make the attempt at recording all that has passed.

Lucia is the Herald, and she believes that a fey called the Lady has the ability to lead the Citte in order to defend it against another Cataclysm. I do not know enough about the Cataclysm to be so easily convinced, however. In fact, it seems more likely that that is a lie fed to her by the Lady in order to frighten her into action.

The powers of the Lady are impressive - they led Lucia to the Heart, one of the Trehroir. I know not how or when it came into her possession, but surely it was the Lady that brought her to it. Though I know it plays a role in the creation of Mascherines, I know not exactly what that role is. I am certain, however, that it hasn't much power on its own. If it did, Lucia would have demonstrated it - what better way to convince me of its capacity? The fact that she did not is enough for me to believe that her possession of the artefact hasn't created an insurmountable power gap.

Though the Lady is clearly powerful, I am uncertain she is all that Lucia makes her out to be. The Lady promised Lucia that she had a plan for me - doubtless it was that I would see her logic and aid her in her conquest - but the fact that I am here, chronicling this, proves that the Lady is not all-knowing. She does not have the world bending to her will, and that should give us enough hope.

Also, another bridge has been drawn that is sure to change the world as we see it. Previously, we had established that the Mascherines were once Dimenticate; we established that the mists were an essential component of the fey. Now we learn that the mists of Ombre are the remnants of the Mascherines that dissipate upon their wearer's death; Mascherines are of the same essence as fey - the souls of the Dimenticate.

I have given the fey instructions to find the rest of the Trehroir. It makes me uncomfortable that all we can do now is wait for its return, but we must not forget to rest while we can.

Unfortunately, that prospect seems slim, what with Vint's arrival and the news she's brought.

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Kalden Azrus

There is little justice in this world. A man in possession of such kindness and compassion should not have been dealt so bitter a hand. As if the circumstances into which he'd been born haven't been torturous enough in this world, he's had so much taken from him. And now his tattoo, a symbol of love, has been twisted into the very thing that threatens to topple his life.

Yet here I stand, unsure about the role I am meant to play in this.

I have the option of standing with him - I am close to Mira Bas and I'm certain she will give weight to my opinion. Or I could choose to let the world have its way with him, as it's had its way with so many others. After all, is that not fair? So many have suffered in his position before - why should he be different?

Ages, I can feel my mind scrambling for excuses, to simplify the turmoil in my heart. I know what has happened to him is not right. I know he deserves better, but why must I be the one to give that to him?

I feel like I've been in this position before, and I have no love for it in the least.

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Vasco Tessitore

My entire life thus far has been an attempt to disengage. When I was young, my brother and I kept to the shadows of the streets - we hunted where the other children would not, we stole from the houses that were the targets of no others. This was a choice I made for us, because I believed that the fewer ties we developed with the world around us, the less they had to hurt us with. And I was right. I spent so much time watching how the children of street gangs were abused and abandoned, cheated and taken advantage of by the very people they'd come to trust. I refused to let that happen to us, and it never did. What's more, we earned enough on the side to keep the family afloat. I had no reason to believe that there was anything wrong with the way I'd been living.

Cyrus was very different. He'd always believed in relying on others for help, in standing as part of a group because there was strength in unity. But I was the older one. We did things my way.

Things never really changed for me, even as I matured. When I joined the Portieri, I made few friends and even fewer enemies; as an Inspettore, there weren't that many of us to begin with, and our lives revolved around independent axes. When the other Inspettores and I had to pick assignments, I'd rarely ever chosen diplomatic ones - my forte has always been solitary investigation. Instead of immersing myself in society, I chose to surround myself in shadow to keep the ties I had with the world around me thin. It was habit. It kept me from being accountable for things in the chaotic world that were beyond my control.

Until now.

Perhaps living this way for so long had fostered in me the belief that it might have been possible for me to divorce myself from the world. I would be my own person, independent and free from responsibility. It was a coward's lie - a coward who was too afraid to face the weight of the truth that it was an impossibility.

We breathe the air of the world, eat the fruits of its trees, step on its earths and soils. By those immutable facts, we impact the world, no matter how deep a hole we try to isolate ourselves in. We are accountable for the influence that we have on those around us, no matter if it was inflicted by our design or by uncontrollable circumstance.

Vasco Salted for me. I don't know why or what he was thinking, but he did, and now I am forced to reckon with my actions. Going to Lucia, trying to keep my ties with these people - with these friends of mine, I dare call them - as thin as possible was foolish. I'd spent time around these people, had fostered with them some sort of connection, no matter how deep. Did I truly think that I could erase that simply by running away? It cannot be clearer to me now that my attempt at cutting them out of my life for both their sakes and mine has only inflicted bitter wounds upon us all - wounds that, most frustratingly, weren't even necessary! How much longer can I run! How many more people around me will I have to hurt before I learn that cowardice damns us all?

This must stop. I cannot afford to run anymore, for the sake of those around me; for them, I must commit.

I don't know what else I can do for Vasco as reparation, but this is a good start.

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Vint

As an Inspettore, I am all too familiar with thorough analysis and thoughtful consideration. Think and think and think again is what we were taught to do; nothing is ever as simple as it seems; always look beneath the surface; always second guess and doubt. In that haze of advocated contemplation, you can understand how easy it would be to forget that sometimes the best solution to a situation might be the most straightforward. The clutter of consideration can sometimes be the enemy of action - think for too long or too hard and you end up paralysed; sometimes it is better to just do.

I believe that that is one of the few lessons in life that needn't be learnt as it were - as children all we do is act; rarely do we ever stop to think - but instead is a lesson that needs to be protected against the overwhelming maelstrom of knowledge and thought that comes with age. Every once in a while we need a reminder to pull our heads out of the clouds and simply act, and this time my reminder has come in the form of a young girl with more wisdom than I'd first anticipated.

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Amadea Invidius

And the process is complete. A wonder to behold, truly, how drastically the woman has changed. She has proven herself to be in possession of a strength I had not anticipated - she has recovered from the grief far more quickly than I would have guessed possible.

But now the yoke of her history has slipped off her shoulders, and her sights are set forward. She has stepped out of the fire, purged of the poison of her past which, in its wake, has left her with a valuable lesson: regret, despite its softer bark, will prove to be far beastlier a burden than the pain of loss. So try. Recognise that fear is the pernicious seed of regret, and let it not stop you from trying, from doing.

If only I had learnt that lesson all those years ago. I believe my life might have turned out rather differently.

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Vasco Tessitore

I am surprised that he still remains with us after all that has happened. Is his lust for power, for the artefacts, truly that strong? Somehow I find that conviction insufficient to justify his actions, both prior and present.

When we were in the Sunken Star, he'd said to me that he'd not abandon me again. There in his eyes, I saw an apology. I saw grief and remorse, but not their roots. What had he done that warranted such a confession? What secrets of ours must he have divulged and what had he gained in the process?

Again, I have no answers, but I find that that bothers me less than it should. He saved my life - if he had ratted us out, I don't believe I'd be able to hold that against him in the light of his recent actions.

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Kalden Azrus

There comes a point in time when a choice must be made. It is safe to think that we can pass through our lives without standing for something, and for a long time that's what I did.

I thought that perhaps I might be able to walk the ever-narrowing path between factions, between beliefs, between ideals, for the sake of my safety and those who I cared about. I thought that perhaps, by never choosing to fight for something, I'd be safe - after all, if I didn't stand with it, I wouldn't fall with it either.

And that was fine until the world in which I live reminded me that it doesn't operate quite so simply. It is a fool's errand to think that one might be able to call oneself independent of belief. To say that they invest their faith in nothing is idiosyncratic - in putting forth that statement, they have proclaimed their belief in it to be true; they have faith in its authenticity, even if nothing else. Therefore it has been, by its nature, defied.

So it is with the choices we make in our lives.

To deny the responsibility of making a choice is a choice in and of itself; it is willful ignorance. It is the choice to stand by and watch the world pass, and we are responsible for the choices we make - whether they be the choice to incite civil war, or the choice to subscribe to inaction.

But yet, even as I form those thoughts in my head, I know they simplify the reality of the situation - we are not merely responsible for our choices; we are our choices.

We are what we choose to be.

And I will not allow my cowardice, my fear of fighting, of losing, to define me. I cannot. I have done it before, and I have caused suffering not only for myself, but for too many others, and I will not do it again.

Kalden, if ever you find this, know that I am eternally grateful that you entered my life, for you brought with you a lesson I will never forget.

You taught me how to believe again.

Thank you.

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Tiziana de Felici

Again, she displays confusing behaviours, standing up for Kalden despite the circumstances. That is not something a Luca who follows so strictly the ways of their guild would do. In fact, that is an act I'd be less surprised to find endorsed by the Bright Chorus.

The more I observe the choices she makes the more I realise how much about her I have yet to understand.

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Fey: Mangiatore

Long have the Songstresses kept mum about the fey that resides at the top of the Singing Tree. Certainly, it is in records somewhere, but few ever speak of it. The Songstresses have a method of clearing out the songs from Chimes, so new ones can take their place - this fey must have been it.

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Orlana Corvail

Change is not something that comes easily to people. I do not speak specifically of the citizens of Ombre, but of our kind in general. There is resistance initially, much like how the butterfly must first struggle to emerge from its cocoon, but once that period of turmoil has passed, the lives of those involved are changed and often as drastically as the difficulties are difficult. Certainly not all changes are for the better in this world, and many of those that are are quite easily undone, but on the rare occasion when witness is borne to permanent, good change, the excruciation that precipitated the metamorphosis can hardly be described as ill-fated.

Mira Bas was right when she said that you could hear a smile - I hadn't completely understood what she meant when she'd said that, but listening to Orlana now, I think I do.

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The Seventh Canticle: Coin and Kin

The Seventh Canticle lasted for fifteen Mesura(289-348IL), and with the cutting off of Ombrians from the Randagia that wished to move to the Citte came the drawing of the first line of distinction that was to shape the nation in the decades to come. With most of the Masquerada residing in the Citte, the gap between the Masquerada and the Contadani began to widen, mirroring the segregation that the Citte experienced from the Randagia.

Without any external threats to defend themselves against and unify the Masquerada, the restless power of Ombre began turning on itself, and feuds between the guilds began to erupt. The Registry could do little to control the guilds because at this time they had already lost much of their influence over the Citte, what with the wards that they'd given to the guilds now threatening their own territories.

The Cacciatore were fashioned in 299IL, to fend off Masquerada who saw the Randagia as land to be claimed instead of a part of the same nation. There were great numbers of Contadani that suffered because of the feuds between the Masquerada and this allowed Contadani resentment toward the Masquerada to fester.

The event that broke the reservation of the Contadani was the execution of Tamara de Rassi, a woman who organised groups of vigilante Contadani who worked at the docks that would secretly pilfer the cargo of wealthy merchants and distribute them to the poor in an attempt to close the widening disparity between the rich and the poor.

Her execution sparked the festering resentment that the Contadani harboured, and inspired them to pick up arms and begin a revolution.

Thus began the Bright War in 347IL, and the ending of the Seventh Canticle.

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The Eighth Canticle

The Eighth Canticle is the Canticle that we find ourselves in presently. It is currently in its fifteenth Mesura, having begun in 349IL, and many suspect that the Songstresses are waiting for the end of the War of Bearings to declare the end of the Canticle.

The Bright War ended in 352IL, having lasted five years, but the Songstresses did not deem the Canticle over, for the end of the war was not seen as a critical point in the Song of the Ages - instead of attitudes toward the Contadani becoming better after the war, they worsened; the Contadani were viewed as the cause of death of so many Masquerada and fuelled the scorn held by them.

The lingering dissent and unsolved issues between the Masquerada and the Contadani escalated over the years and came to a head with my brother's rebellion against the White Spire five years ago.