The Holder of the Returned Hope

"They must never come together. Never."

Dear Seeker,

This is a child of destiny. You may or may not know the story of how he came about, but I have little time to include all details, as many of the Others are after me.

Please take care of this child. I feel so guilty and terrible for not caring for him myself, but I am being followed, relentlessly, by a horde of terrible beings intent on my destruction (and that is just to begin with) and I do not want this precious child, whom I grew to love, to be in the same sort of danger that I am in, although I admit because of what and who he is, he will eventually come across Them.

He is known as the Child of Passions and Innocence. This is his title; give him any name you wish, but you must know that this is what he is called.

I must finish this letter, for I have heard the first telltale sounds that mean I should be on the move.

Sincerely,

The Holder of Returned Hope

I am weary and disillusioned. I hardly recognize who, or what I am supposed to be. I've lost track of how many names I was given. Only one thing remains, steady as ever. This was a mantra, repeated to me my whole life. By the time I was self-aware enough to have an image, my parents disappeared from my life and I never knew who they were. All anyone would ever tell me was my title.

I was a feisty little one, as would be known. It was no secret even to me that I am vastly intelligent. Depending on who you talked to, I was supposed to be born years in the past to show them some of the advanced ways of thinking that I always showed, years in the future where I truly belonged, and yet others said that the fact that I exist right now should be important enough for everybody.

Eventually, I stumbled across an archive of urban legends, and was intrigued to see them. Somewhere, a Seeker of Holders has recovered from childbirth years and years ago, and may or may not want... its offspring.

Allow me to tell you about the visions. One of them, in particular, makes me fear for my very being every time it shows up. A man holding a strange Object in his hands is staring me in the face and telling me a horrible story. Every fiber of my being is tempting me to look at the Object, but every awareness I can hold on to during his story is telling me to keep contact with his eyes. I have seen several instances of this, and maybe four or five times out of hundreds, whoever I am seeing through manages to focus on the man's eyes throughout the whole tale.

I have met and dealt with several people and beings who know what I am. They have even told me vivid tales of Holders such as Salmacis, Vibration, and Phlogiston. The Holder of Salmacis, in particular, disturbed and intrigued me, because it was a possible glimpse of my parentage.

Based on research that I undertook involving going deeper than these notes go, I was able to determine that I am the 394th of 2538 Objects, the Child of Passions and Innocence. I know what I must do. Do you?