My Dearest Eleanor,
I would have wished for a different departure, but deep down, I always knew it would end this way. My pain is like a deep, calm lake, though at times dark, I admit. Yours, however, was always a burning fire, and I suppose this time that fire reached and consumed me.
I won't deny I would have preferred an embrace, one last kind word... but one doesn't always get what one wishes for, not even Archmages with all their power, nor queens with all their authority.
Perhaps you won't write to me at my new destination. I know your nature: swift to anger and slow to forgive. Even so, I will continue to write to you, even if you don't reply. Because you are an essential part of my life, and what I feel for you—silent, yes—remains intact.
I swear I tried to give you the best of myself while I was by your side, without reservations, without regrets. I leave with that sole certainty.
Forgive me if I couldn't do more. There are obstacles neither you nor I knew how—or were able—to overcome. This farewell hurts me more than you can imagine. I would have wanted to continue my path with the warmth of your embrace still on my skin. Perhaps it's selfish of me to leave everything to finally dedicate myself to myself... but just as I offered you all that I was, I also promised myself to seek a little happiness. I promised it to the one who was like a father to me. And though I start late, I am still in time.
I wish that you also find it, Eleanor. I truly wish it, from the bottom of my heart.
PS: In my Royal Council office, I have left some unfinished projects. I believe they might interest you. I hope your anger doesn't prevent you from seeing their value. Take great care, my dear queen.
You were my light for many years. I hope you know that.
Dyan Halvest