AC4 Edward bottled letter

Edward Kenway recovering one of the letters

Thom Kavanagh's letters were a series of twenty hand-written notes authored by the Sage Thomas Kavanagh, Jr., that detailed parts of his life. As he wrote them, they were sent to sea in glass bottles. The letters were recovered by the pirate Edward Kenway between 1715 and 1722 after they had washed up on shores throughout the Caribbean.

The last of these letters were placed at Kavanagh's grave near the Observatory after his death.



To any and all who may reade this Missive, know First that I am Thom Kavanagh, born in 1652, formerly of Boston, now of the Worlde, living in the year 1706;– taken to Isolation long ago in the playce of my Ancestors in pursuite of Peace and Steadieness of Spirit. My storie is a singular one, though I make no Claim to Greatness or Nobility. Yet there is such an amount of Strangeness in my Blood it bears Mention, with the Wish that a better Understanding may come from my Situation;– and with the Hope that, if there be any others in the Worlde who suffer the same Perturbations of Minde as I have since Birth, they might find in me a kindred Soul;– and a friendly Voice to guide them to the calmer Shores of Sanitie....

In plaine Words, I was borne a Creature of two Souls, one being my owne, newly Mint'd and fresh upon the World's Stage;– yet, the other being an old and wyse Thing, a Soul as old as the Universe itself may be. Two Souls, therefore, in a single Body, competing for Supremacie.

For as long as I have been a thinking Being, I have felt these two Tydes stirring within me. How this mysterious Incorporation should have occurr'd shall be the Subject of future Lettyrs...


From Birth I was known to my Parents and Naybours as a Boy of straynge Habits and Impulses. My Eyes, being of inequal Colour and Dymension, alwayse invited odd Comment and Querie, being so easy to discern. But my Behayvior was also noticeablie queer;– I was given to Gesticulations of a mysterious Sorte; Sines and Symbols that appear'd to my Parents to portend a Meaning they could not deciffer. It was also said that I never did crie or protest;– strange for a Babe, but likely a Comforte to my dear Mother.

I gain'd the Gyft of Speache in my twelfth Month, my first Wordes being “My Love” and “Beloved”. My Parents seized upon this as a Good sign of robust Intelligence, but could not have been much pleas'd with what such Words Implied;– and ryght they were to be anxious, for at such a Tyme that I should have call'd these kind Shepherds "Mother" and "Father", by the age of two Yeares, I had alreadie taken to reffer to them Elizabeth and Thomas;– a queer sort of Quirk for an Infant, it needn't be said. But this was my Impulse, and until I pass'd through Adolescence, was a Practice I stuck to...


Of the City I call'd Home for nigh two Decades, I have nothing but fond Memories. Boston was a Place of grate Beautie and Peace. My Father was a Cobbler by trade and my Mother kept a moddest House as she raysed me as best she could;– and together, we lived along the southern Shores near the Wharffs that saw the Tallships in their comings and goings, shuttling all mannor of Goode to and from this young Colonie.

I remember being alwayes fascinated by those Ships and the Promise of Adventure they Presaged;– and it was not for wont of Distraction or Imagination that I spent many a Morning sitting upon the Docks to watch them enter the Harbour from Locations afar, or disappear from it, sinking into the Horyzon as silently as a Dream. I wonder'd then what lay beyond that thin Line of Azure, and in Wondering set the Course of my Desire: I wish'd to travell, to discover.

So it was that I Knew from those early Days I would not live out my Lyfe in Boston, but would range far and wyde in search of the Source of the strange Secrets within me. Of that, more shall be writt at another Tyme. But lett it be knowne that I was content for a Tyme, and that I loved my Parents very much...


I recall with grate Claritie the day of my first Reverie. Heretofore, I had onley the SENSE of my bicameral Mind;– but on this Day I was offerr'd a Glimpse as if through a Window into that second buried Soul;– into the second Lyfe within me.

I was four Years of Age, and it was a fresh Autumn day. I was outt with my Parents upon an Excursion, strolling about the place call'd Beacon Hill. We, having onley concluded our Picnicking, now ranged about the Peake to take view of the Citie below.

It was then a Coolness fell upon me. The World seem'd to darken and glowe all at once. I fell back, landing, it seem'd, into a pair of coddling arms. A voice said to me, "Go Beloved. Go to your rest." As eerie as this was, a deep Love suffused me. The voice went on;– "Your sacrifyce will not have been in Vain. And though you must pass from this Lyfe, I will see you renew'd. Reborn to remain at my Side forever..."

Never before, and rarely since, had I felt such a Depth of Adoration. Then the skies clear'd and the Worlde light'd and I woke supine with my Parents looming over me, calling my Name...


It is with deep Sadness I shoulde now relate the Genesis of my feeling of grate Isolation from my Parents, even att so young an Age, and my powerfull Sense that I was too muche different from them;– meaning, that though they had borne me and raysed me, I seem'd not of their Issue, norr of their Kinde. And the Reverie described previously cast this Feeling in a firmer Mould;– I seem'd not to be of this Worlde att all. Indeed there were Days when I felt not remotely Human at all, but of an other Kinde of Creayture entire.

Between the Time of my fourth Year and my fourteenth, I was given to such a Profusion of Reveries and Ideas and Dreams that I should sound mad to describe them, yet by outward Appearance I was as normal as any Ladd, and further, was never particularlie troubled by what cross'd my Minde;– Visions of grate Cities made of Glass; Portraits of beautiful Men and Women in great flowing Robes; Machines that generated Lightening as easily as Thunderclouds; Vehicles that flewe in the Skies as Birds...

As I say, Ideas and Visions too fancifull to be Entertain'd by any sane Mindes, yet all to reale in my Heade to be ignored...


When I was aged fourteen Yeares, my Father, feeling I shoulde discover some better Skill or Trade sensible to my Habits of Mind, Apprentyced me to a Master Carpenter-Joiner call'd Jonathan Davenport of Boston. Master Davenport had then many Slaves and two other white Boyes in his Emploie;– one a Bricklayer by trade and the other a Carpenter, bothe not terrible Clever. But seeing in me a certain Spark of Intelligence and Wytt, Master Davenport was all too keene to place me as a Joiner;– and I was happie to oblyge, the Position earning me some 2 Pound a Year and grate Satysfaction of Spirit.

A Joiner’s work requires a nice and steadie Hande, and a grate Taste in Ornament;– both Qualties Master Davenport tolde me I hadd in large Measure. And so it was with grate Pryde that, well pryor to the customarie seven Yeares, I tooke leave of my Master after only five, and set out on my owne at nineteen Years of Age to seek my Success, now a Man and Master in my owne ryght. My Master was not sadd to see me go, but bade me goode Fortune, for he knew in his heart that I was the greatest Talent he had yet apprentyced. – “For there is something of a natural Genius in you, Ladd;– A Wisdome beyond your Yeares.”

And so packing a Kitt of all my worldly Possessions, I bid my Mother and Father much Love and Farewell, then took Passage on a Merchant Brig bound for Jamaica in the West Indies, where need for Carpenters of Skill were grately needed...


It paines me now to think on my Feelings of my Departure from Boston, and from my Deare parents, who raised me so well, for in hyndsight I think perhaps I should have been melancholie, or anxious at the least. Yet leaving Home at so spry an Age ranks as one of the grate Joys of my Lyfe;– never before or since did I ever feel such an Embrase of Freedom.

Yet, not all concerning my Leaving was Joyous, as it was around this Tyme that the Voices came upon me strong;– much like a Man whispering in my Eares, these Voices were neither synister in Nayture, nor did they prevent mature Dealings with my fellow Man. But, unlike my Reveries, which came to me in my Sleep or in Daydreams, these Voices came upon me at Times inconvenient to my present Purpose. Day and Night, they intruded without Provocation. And though they were not constant, they were certainlie frequent in Nature;– and strangest of all, had the Qualities of memories. There were tymes too that I seem'd to heare my owne Voice among them.

Was it possible that I heard Conversations from a previous Lyfe? Memories of those I knew, Memories of Engagements long past? In the next Lettyr I shall relate what were perhaps the most confounding Snatches of Conversation...


Here I relate one such Memorie, repeat'd ad nauseum through the whole of my Lyfe:


A Woman;– "As biological Traites are pass'd from one Generation to another, why should we not engineer the Humans to pass learn'd Information to their offspring as well? It is well within our Scope." And here an other Woman interrupts;– "Never! Alreadie we have made them sturdy and strong! Why should we gift them with new Advantages over us? We are dyeing, the War is tilting against us;– we should discover a means to our own Salvation, not theirs!"

And here the Man disagreed;– "Our time is done. The Instruments of our Will shall soon be our masters, and we shall fade away. Perhaps not in ten or twenty Yeares, but certainlie this Centurie is our last. Why not therefore gift the Humans with add'd faculties for Wisdom and Growthe. Why not let them pass on the accumulations of their Learnings, from one Generation to the Next? By ever ascending Degrees, the Humans shall be as Wyse as we are..."

And here I seem to speak;– "It can be done. By simple Manipulation of the Code within their Blood, we could improve their Lott" And here the second woman screams "Absolutelie not!";– And then the Memorie is end'd...


Upon my Rowte to the West Indies, a Curiouse incident aroused in me a Revelation. It was a wanton Act of Violence that I witness'd, one that proved fatal only to its Instigator: a pardon'd Pyrate named Savory who had come aboard to Work off his Debts as an honest Christian, yet died a Devil full of Drink after mistaking the reasonable Abjurations of his fellow Men for Insults. He was taken by a self-inflict'd Pistol Shot, sustain'd as he attempt'd to load his Piece in preparation for the first of six Duels which he had arranged as Challenges against our Groupe.

All of us were sad for his Misfortune, but none were sorry that our Crew grew quieter in his Absence. And yet, at seeing the poor chap wound himself so, and witnessing the Blood freely flowing from his Bodie, a Notion sprung upon me like an Idea long dormant, alreadie within me yet awaiting a Chance to reappear.

Thence came the Phrase I had heard before, springing to my Minde: "The Code in their Blood";– suddenly it was sensible to me! The Code of Lyfe, like a Shipbuilders Draughts in miniature, yet responsible for building each and every Man and Woman on Earth. How was it that such an Idea made perfect Sense to me? How was it I understood alreadie that which had no Prescedent in the most modern Philosophies? The Code of Lyfe. In our Blood. Imagine!

These Ideas swirl'd within me for many Weeks upon that Voyage, spinning in such a Maelstrom of thought I could not Articulate them...


Reaching Jamaica I push'd all idle Thoughts and Fantasies from my Minde and set about finding myself Employment. A Letter of Endorsement from my Mentor, Mister Davenport, hasten'd my Success and within a Fortnight I was abel to secure an Interview with an Agent working for the esteemable Mister Peter Beckford, a Man knowne wyde acrosse the West Indies as a One of Honour and good Intelligence;-- as, I must say, was his Agent, for the Man hyred me on the Spot, and within a two Days’ time was I set to work upon the Slaves Quarters;-- fitting them with sturdier Doors and tighter Rooves.

For my owne accommodations, I am well pleased to tell they were fine. Three windows had I, two of which look'd upon the Cane Fields. When open'd, a light Breeze fill'd my Room, one scent'd with the raw Perfume of the nearby Sea, and the distant Sound of a hushing Ocean Surf. Often too the spiritual Songes of the Negros hard at worke enter'd, and gave me a deepe calm. It was pleasant there, only this Comfort could not mask the Dread I felt at the Thought of catching the Yellow Fever, or another of the innumerable Ailments that often struck those newly arrived to these Parts. For my Parte I saw well over seventeen Men and Women perish from the Disease within six Months of my Arrival.

It seem'd, then, that for every success I hadd, another two or three potential Hazzerds lay in waite. And as tyme would tell, this proved most unfortunately True...


Of my Employer I must say Something, for it was owing to his Connexions that I came to find such troubled Dealings. Peter Beckford was a Man of grate Charisma and Pryde. In 1662, he had come to Jamaica and in just 10 yeares had fast-procured himself a sizable Portion of Land which he sow'd with Cane as early as he was able.

Upon my coming into his Orbit, he own'd – claim'd all about him – one of the largest private Holdings of Land in all the World, rivalling only Kings and Emperors for his Largesse. This same Surpluss applied to the Number of slaves in his emploie;– whereas he had arrived in Jamaica with a compliment of three, he now own'd the better part of three-hundred.

A shrewde and relentless man of Business, Mister Beckford was known also be subservient to a Temper of cyclonic Power;– Wrath and Fury and Enmity were his primary means of settling Arguments that could nott be concluded in Mister Beckford’s immediate favor. He was however always kinde to me and as gracious a Man as one could hope an Employer to be. But this I put down to my Status in his eyes;– he was a traditionall Man with a Respect for Rank and Breeding.

In earlier Tymes he hadd been the Governor de facto of the Island, and though a Statesman no longer upon my Arrivall he still bore all the Sines of a man who felt it his natural Dutie to lead. Further, his political Connexions he valued as deeply as his Sugar and the Money it brought him;– and it was in this Capacity, following the arrival of a Spanish soldier, that I met the man who would change my Lyfe for the worse, forever;– a young man named Laureano Torres.


It was in April of 1673 when I espy'd the Galleon in Kingston’s Harbour, flying the Colours of the Men of Holland, which I thought queer but not unlikely. This was a Ruse, however, for the Ship’s Cargo was most assuredly Spanish;– a Gentleman call'd Torres, once a soldier in the Spanish army, now an Emissary on behalf of his King. Or so said he to Peter Beckford. I learn'd later that he call'd himself a Templar, and had made his Visit to Beckford’s Plantation to look upon Master Becford's straynge collection of collect'd Manuscripts.

Torres was two Days with Mister Beckford when another Object took his full Attention;– namely, me. The Syght of my Face stirr'd in him a strange sort of Excitement, which I found altogether untoward at first, until he ply'd me with Questions that shock'd me to the Core of my Being. Said he to me, one evening after Supper– “Hear you voices, Mister Kavanagh?” – “How is that?” I answer'd, feigning Ignorance, though shaken in Truth. “Voices. From the dark of your Minde. Or Memories, to be clearer, as if from another Lyfe entire.” And here I was terrified;– how was it that this man knew the odd Riddle of my Lyfe as if it were a banal Fact of History?

“I know not what you mean, Master Torres” said I, and took my Leave of him, so anxious as I was. “Goodnight to you, Sir” said he, as I depart'd. “We shall speake again when you are rest'd and ready to talk.” Still shaken, I bade him good Night and made for my Bedchamber, feeling another Reverie coming strong upon me. When I reach'd my Bed, I fell into bothe...


Here I relate another Reverie…


“Beloved,” said she, a voice so intimate and familiar, “Our Colleagues conspire against us. They dither and sigh, resign'd to their Fates, content to champion the Humans. But there is Hope for us; there is a chance we might inure our Bodies to the chilling Worlde, the poison'd Atmosphere, and the war itself. Will you aid me? Will you submit?”

And here, I hear my owne Voice in answer;--“Yes, Beloved. What must I do?”

“Tranference,” said she “The shuttling of our Mindes from these old Bodies into new Forms. Mechanical bodies perhaps, or into those of our Instruments, our Humans. In short, I believe there may be a way to transfer all we knowe and all we are into other forms... in this way we may survive the coming Cataclysm and live to see our People repopulate the Earth, and recover her from those we foolishly set loose upon it.”

“Tranferance,” I said aloud. “Our minds into alternate Vessels? A dangerous Prospeckt, but reasonable.”

“Yes!” said she, “And who better to make this Leap than you my beloved Husband. With a Minde unparallel'd. A Constitution unrivall'd. Arckitect of the Observatorie, Overseer of Eden’s tools, the brightest light in our Civilization. If you are not capable of making this leap, perhaps no one is...”

And here replied I;--“I will do this for you, Beloved. For us and our people...”


Lost as I was in my Reverie, I fail'd to see the Envelope slipp’d ‘neath the Door to my Bedchamber. It read thus: “Dear Sir, forgive the Alarm I must have raised with my Queries, but you have the exact Likeness of a Man my Colleagues and I have long'd to meet. Allow me an Audience and I will explain all. Your Friend, Laureano Torres."

I ponder’d this Letter for some time that Evening, wondering what it could mean that I had the “exact Likeness” of a Man he knew, and why it should raise so much Intrigue. I wonder'd at this for hours, Pacing about the Room with a Minde to slip from my Chamber, when of a sudden I hearde a rapide Succession of Reports from Pistols and Rifles, outside in the Garden. To my Eare it sound'd as if a Warr had begun, with me a Bystander at its Center...

I dropp’d to my Knees and hid on the far side of my Bed, away from the Window, and shutt my eyes. But as I did this, a voice call'd out to me from my Chamber door. “Mister Kavanaugh!” it said. I raysed my head and open'd my eyes and there saw a Figure cutting a terrible Outline;– hood'd and robed in dusky Sienna, the Man lift'd a small Pipe to his Lipps and blew. I felt a Sting upon my Neck, as if from a Mosquito. I open'd my Mouth to Protest, but thereupon a Wave of Fatigue took me and I fell fast asleep...


I awoke some Days hence in a bustling Native village in the Presence of that same man, many Leagues from where I had call'd my Home. A Native himself, with a strong and serious but gentle Face, he named himself Bahlam, and bade me nott be fryghten’d.

Strangely, I was not;– for his demeanor was calm and his words were kind. I ask'd him why he had brought me to this Place. His Surprise seem'd genuine, and he told me, “You are a Sage. Your face tells it plain;– your Eyes most of all.” I did not know what to make of this Suggestion. He went on;– “You are but one of a long Lineage of identical Men;– men born outside their original Tyme. Your Likeness and your Soul are a Pattern, repeat'd through the Ages. Oftentimes a century or more passes without the appearance of a Sage; other times, Two are born in the same Decade. We know not why.”

And dash my Brains, but all he spoke was knowne to me in some intrinsick Way, and yet it frighten'd me all the same. How could it be that I was a Man reborn? How could it be that I had already lived one Lyfe, and had plodd'd through a second, still pondering the first? I spent many a Day with this man Bahlam, and in that time he told me all he knew, then ask'd questions of his own he hoped I might answer...


For severall Days, I stay'd with my Captor, Bahlam, asking him all mannor of Questions and he asking the same of me;– and all the While I wonder'd what Fate he intend'd for me. At last, on the seventh Day I reveal'd what lay heavy on my Heart.

“What do you want of me, Sir, that you keep me prisoner so?” And at this, Bahlam, laugh'd and answer'd “You are no Prisoner, Sage! You may take your Leave at any Point. Only tell us where you wish to be dropp’d, and if it be in our Power, we shall transport you thence.”

This Answer surprised, then anger'd me;– “Why then did you spirit me away with such a diabolical Method? Kidnapp'd, no less!” And said he in Answer “Your Master host'd a Templar, and may now be one himself. Such Men are not to be trust'd with a Prize so valuable as you. Steer clear of them, for they seek the Knowledge that hides in your Minde. Your Dreames, your Memories, and the Location of a Place once dear to you... The Observatorie.”

This word rang in my Eares, for I had heard it before. Another Memorie from a Tyme long ago. “And what do YOU desire of me, Sir?" I ask'd him. “Would you Steale the Secrets buried within me too?” Bahlam smiled;– “I would not shun them, but to share them is a Point for you to decide. Your Secrets are your own... and yours alone to Lend...”


After my difficult Counsel with Bahlam, I took a Day to ruminate on what should be done. Notions straynge and uncertain battled in my Head for Supremacie, and I was never on one Idea long before its Opposite seem'd a better Option. Yet at last made my Decision.

“Sir, you have been gracious with me,” I told him;– “And my Trust in you is compleat. Yet I cannot share my Visions and Memories without first understanding them myself. I must therefore take my Leave and travel in secret to a Playce that has occupied my Thoughts for many Yeares.”

Bahlam smiled and said;– “I understand well, and I believe in your Cause. To find the source of your Reveries will do you a great Good. Go, therefore, and answer these Riddles. We will provide you with supplies to see you safely embark'd.” To which I replied; “Thank you, Sir. And if what I finde satisfies me, I will return hither and provide you with answers that may satisfie you as well.”

In the days following, Bahlam was true to his Word. With his young son, Ah Tabai, in tow, he transport'd me first unto a fishing Village near his own Compound, and supplied me with Maps and Coin before issuing a Warning. “The Templars are lately come to the West Indies, and this Torres is their Grandmaster;– and though few now in Number, there must soon be Others. Take heed of them, and trust not their Entreaties. For what they cannot earn by Conversation, they will take by Force.”

And with this, and a hearty goodbye, I took my Leave of this "Asssassyn" and set out for parts unknown, a vague sense of purpose pulling me forward...


After leaving Bahlam, I set out in a Sloop of my own and travell'd for nigh-on one Yeare about the West Indies, sailing with a small crew to all mannor of Jungles and Playas and Beaches, looking for a Sine, or a Landform that might spark in me a Memorie.

Along my Way I met many a fine Peoples who did me great Kindnesses, and offer'd Work in exchange for more Provisions. In this way, I came to know the people of the new World and of the old, and found in all of them the same Hopes and Desyres. To travell is truley the finest education.

Then, after my thirteenth Month a-roving, I found my Object well-inland on a known Island;– here it was, the place Bahlam had call'd The Observatorie. O, what Memories the Location aroused! Well prior to clapping Eyes upon its Structure, I knew I had come to the correct spot. Leaving my men on shore, I pass'd alone through Jungles and deep Ravines, coming at last upon the Spot, and there marvel'd at its straynge and forboeing Presense.

Without prompt, I knew what do;– I press’d my Finger into what I knew to be a Portal, and upon its opening, I pass'd inside. What I saw there, however, shall remain a Mystery, for the World is not yet readie to hear my Tales, which should sound like Sorcery to all but my Friend, Bahlam, and perhaps the Templars who likely chase me still...


I remain'd alone at the Observatories Location, plumbing its Secrets, all the while besieged by such an influx of Reveries it would require a Tome twice the size of a Bible to relate them all. Let it suffice to say, that I came to understand the Nature of the two Souls within me, and I am now content.

After near on a Week there, I was visit'd by a Group of Natives from the Island, people of the Tiano tribe, I believe. They spott'd me first, and might have kill'd me straight away, had my utter surprise not widen'd my Eyes to such a Degree that their unusual qualities were seen by all. At seeing me thus, the Natives stopp'd and and dropp’d to their knees with slow Gesticulations. I understood at once that these men were sworn to protect this place, and in my further Conversations with them since, I have made out that it was a PREVIOUS Sage who had employ'd them so;– or more precisely, I should say employed their Ancestors thus, for nearly 150 years had pass'd since the last “Sage” had come this way. I am told his Grave lies nearby, but is unmark'd and inaccessible.

It has now been over four Decades since my Arrival at this sacred Place, and onlie one Question yett lingers in my Minde;– how many more of my Sort have been here in Total? near eighty Millennia have pass'd since our Inception, and I am apt to believe the Number quite high. But I cannot knowe for certain.

But let that not trouble you, Reader;– for if you have followed my Storie entire, look you for my final Missive in the Playce where I will soon surely lay. Hidden near the Observatorie, where I have instructed the Guardians of this place to burie me when my Passage across this mortal Coil is at it's End. Therefore, fare thee well, until then.


As I wryte, the Yeare is now neare upon 1706, and I am sicklie and in poor Condition, and so must tell what little else I can of my Condition;-- all I tell here, I have dredg'd from the dark Voide of my Memorie. I cannot confirm or prove what I argue, but perhaps if some Others like me were to see this, they too would understand, and feel not alone as I so often have.

In my originale Lyfe, I died in the midst of my Beloved’s experiment. This Method of which she spoke – of the Transference of Mind into Machine, and from thence into a Human Body –- was a Failure. Yet an instructive one, I believe. For in my last Moments, I Recollect her comforts to me, and a cleare Promise that my death would not be an end, but a beginning.

“There is another Way, Beloved,” said she to me, “Imperfect, yet possible. Firstly, I will agree to carry out Minerva’s experiments, her terrible Gift to the Humans. Yet my purpose will be contrary;-- my purpose will be your Immortality! In collecting Samples of the Code in the Human’s blood, I will add my own Augmentations;-- Samples of your Code, transfigured in such a way that when the proper Pieces come together, it may further transfigure the Zygote of a newly conceived Child. In this Way, you shall be reborn, again and again throughout the Ages. With luck, this recessive Recurrence shall never die out, but travell on like a Raft downstream along the Tide of Inheritance.”

I was dying as she spoke, there in my Beloved’s Arms, but I understood her Meaning well. “Look for me, Beloved! Your Death will not be in Vain. For I WILL be with you again. Entomb'd. Lying in waite! Ready to emerge again when the Tyme is ryght!"

She then pierced me through the Heart, thus ending my Lyfe. How trulie bizzare it is;-- that I can claim to have Memorie of my own death is a Ludicrous idea. And yet I know know thatt it happen'd, and that I now live again, many Centuries from that Tyme, waiting for the final piece of this Riddle to reveal itself... yet how this will be, I cannot say.

Thus, to any and all who have read this and understood little;-- be not upset. For there is more Mysterie than Sense in the World, and our only Purpose is to endure it! --T.K. 1706