πA Letter From The Founding Mayor
Silas Glaston
It is strange to observe the world from this… place. One foot upon the earth, the other elsewhere, and yet my thoughts remain tethered to what I have begun. I am both present and absent, a witness to the echoes of my own ambition. Perhaps I am foolish to speak of it-I have learned that even greatness cannot outrun the quiet truths that linger behind every foundation laid.
Glaston-what a splendid name for a city, a monument to vision and will. And yet, even as I consider its streets, its markets, the very walls of its houses, I sense something inchoate, something restless, that I did not intend. Perhaps it is the nature of creation: the very act of giving life can leave shadows in one’s wake. The plans I cherished, the triumphs I claimed, will endure, yes-but they will endure differently than I ever imagined.
I know not how much time remains to me, or in what form I persist, but I have observed enough to see the currents stirring beneath the surface. There are forces that will take root long after my hands have left the soil, after my voice has faded from the halls, and the city will grow in ways I could not have foreseen. Some of it will be bright; some… darker.
Perhaps you, the reader, sense it already. The small flickers in the quiet corners, the stirrings that do not belong to anyone yet claim the air. It will only become more apparent in time. Glaston, my creation, will come to be known differently, and those who walk its streets will feel the weight of what I planted here. The future is inevitable, and yet, it is not entirely mine to command.
I leave this note not as warning, nor as boast, but as acknowledgment. What begins in ambition does not always end as intended. And while I depart from the life I once knew, the city, the streets, the people, and the shadows will carry on. Perhaps one day, you will understand the full measure of what I set into motion.
Until then… watch closely. The echoes of Glaston are only just beginning to stir.
- Silas Glaston
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