Dearest Felix
Mister Amera
You rotten whoring son of
Dear Comrade Petakova,

I hoped that the day would never come when I would have to write you this letter. I'm sure that, by now, you have long since forgotten our brief tryst along the Stoneshore beach or how intoxicating the waves, and the wine, were. I have not been able to forget, for the bearer of this note has been a constant, living reminder.

Yes, Amera, the scared and broken child bearing this note is your son. He favors my family's looks considerably, but he has your eyes, those same, deep pools of green I'd gotten lost in twelve years ago. Were you not Celestian, I would prove it with a simple DNA test; however I'm sure if you look within your heart, or stare into his eye long enough, you will sense the truth of it.

I have not told him that you are his father, and although he can be as stubborn as a mule in many respects, he minds me well enough that I am reasonably sure he has not read this letter yet. Tell him or don't tell him; acknowledge him or don't acknowledge him; the choice is yours to make. But please, please help him, Felix - for he needs you now in a way he never has before.

You may think it cruel that I've not told you of him before now. I'm not sure who I was more trying to protect more - him or you. He has such a love of machinery, and I know he would have been torn between your charms and his addictions. I suppose I was protecting myself, mostly - after all, you have your world in Petakova, and I have mine in Stocklin, and I wanted him in mine. I suppose I feared that he might grow to desire all the things that you could give him that I could not, and I would lose him to your culture the same way that I lost you.

It would seem that fate wants him in your world now, though. He has displayed the Gift. I'm afraid that as much as I knew that this might happen, I did nothing to prepare him for it; I simply hoped, prayed, that it wouldn't. Now I can't keep him; he must go where I cannot follow, not if I wish to maintain my livelihood. But I won't have him in some random foster home with strangers.

I know that you are strong with your Gift. I don't ask that you take him in; I'm sure, if your lifestyle is anything like what it was when I knew you, that that would not be an option. But you can use your influence to place him in a good family, and you can check up on him, guide him in the right direction. Give him the strength he needs to leave my world behind and make it in yours.

Please, bao bei, I ask that you look after him. If you are angry, let your anger be at me - he is but an innocent child who needs you. Your son.

And you still owe me ten marks. A bet is a bet.

Sincerely,
Cercilia mac Nihil