Templar's Last Stand

To My Dearest Eleanor,

If you are reading this, then the gate has fallen, and my watch is ended. Do not mourn. This is the price of our creed, a cost I have always been prepared to pay. The air here is thin and tastes of ozone. The stone beneath my feet is cold, a constant reminder of the world we protect.

From the chasm, I can hear them. It is not a sound one can describe; it is a chorus of splintering geometries, a song that unravels the mind. There are three of us left. Three lions against a tide of impossibility. We have barricaded the archway with memories and lit the brazier with our last hopes. It will have to be enough.

I only regret that I will not see the roses in our London garden bloom again. Tell them I died well. Tell them I died standing. An army of light against the dark.

Yours, forever in service,
- Richard

(Recovered from a sealed pouch, Agartha LZ. Note was cold to the touch.)

The Last Letter

A Final Accounting

My Dearest Eleanor,

If you are reading this, then the mission was a success, and I have paid the toll. Do not mourn. We are Templars; we know the price of peace, and we pay it with unflinching hearts. The gate is sealed. The music has stopped. I can no longer hear her whispers from the other side, and for that, I am grateful. It is quiet now, a silence earned by blade and blood.

I leave you my signet. Wear it not as a reminder of my absence, but as a testament to our purpose. Remember our vows, spoken in the shadow of the sword. *Lux Vult.* Light Wills It. It always has. It always will.

I feel the last of my strength failing. The world grows dim, but I see a new light dawning, the one we fought for. It is beautiful.

Yours in service, always,
—Alistair

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*A single sheet of vellum, found tucked within a bloodstained copy of 'Meditations' in the Templar archive. The ink is smudged, as if by a tear.*