Brother--

It's been too long. I've missed you of late. If you were here, I have to imagine things would have turned out differently. It's a shame you weren't.

I'm dying. I probably have another month, if that, Sherif says. He seems correct. I feel like a man a month from death, anyway. I've lost the use of my left arm four days ago. Michael keeps saying it could be temporary, but Sherif says it likely isn't coming back. And if it does, it won't matter, anyway. I can feel death. I can feel the Engine pulling me back into the churn. I thought Nevermind.

When I die, when it pulls me apart, Vikram cannot be king.

Indeed, it has to be you. You're the only one left.

This letter, writ and sealed in the ink of my blood, constitutes my only and final will and testament and in it, I name, hereby upon the fifteenth day of the second month of the three thousand and ninety-sixth year since the Breaking, the thirteenth year of the Castian Empire, my brother, Dunne Volkov, as my sole heir and successor. The heir to my properties, my titles, and my responsibilities, and my Empire.

Sincerely and with full clarity and conscience,

Maathen LeBraun Volkov I