I paid dearly. My father had already gone off to war, never to return; my mother was captured by the invading enemy, bound in chains, and hauled off to places I can still only guess and imagine. My sister was all that remained to me. She was beautiful, kind, innocent, loving, and soft. She worked hard, smiled often, and worked to restore my hope. I paid dearly when I had to give her up, casting her out of my life and dooming her to one of endless toil at the hands of my betters. At the time I thought it was worth it. I so desperately wanted to be among the literati, to become one of the clerisy, that I willingly paid every price they set before me.

That was one hundred and twenty years ago. I still wrestle with my decision, not knowing if the amount of good I have accomplished has outweighed that one evil act. I would like to take solace in the number of children she bore that man, and their children, and even their children, but I was not allowed contact with any of them, and she has not seen that some of them have become the shadowed arm which moves our world.

Our world. When I first chose my path toward education and enlightenment I thought I would change the world with the knowledge I would possess. I thought I would uncover new secrets and share them with the masses. I understand now that the people are not yet ready. They are unlearned, simple, and incapable of comprehending what we know. Our numbers are few, we clerisy, but it is because only the elite among us can fathom this great depth and wealth of knowledge. I have seen youth perpetuated, I have witnessed firsthand that death can be postponed indefinitely, I have conversed with the animals and the plants in their own tongues, I have even gazed into possible futures. We work for the good of the people around us, saving them from horrors and fates unspeakable. The world does not need change; it is happy and fine the way it is now; it is protected by our efforts. A changeless world, because we fight to protect it.

My sister still visits me in my dreams. Sometimes she is happy, supporting my decision; sometimes she is weeping, crying, and begging that I reconsider. My decision was made, and I am bound to it.