Codex - Imprisoned

**WARNING!**
The following page contains spoilers for the lore and story of Worlds Adrift

## Section 1

> (an inmate's letters)
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> Dear Xhaka,
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> What stopped me writing was the shock, at first, then that turned into a sort of laziness. I kept telling myself I needed to get something sent, and a little voice kept saying, "write later, it's too hard Just now".
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> Anyway, this is my reply. I won't try and answer those questions you asked, because you asked them a long time ago, and they seem trivial now. Suffice to say, I'm living a happy life. I have a young son. Having him made me want to write to you, I don't know why.
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> You never said it, but I get the feeling reading over your letter again, that you felt terribly scared. You talked about wardens as if they were old friends.
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> taking comfort where you could. Am I right?
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> I sometimes dream of you, standing at the foot of my bed, or a chance meeting at the Cloistrum. You say "they let me out early," or something like that, and I worry that you are going to kill me. You are always angry in the dream, because never wrote to you.
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> l'd like to know how you feel now, ten years on? I understand if you don t want to reply.
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> Diira.
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## Section 2

> Diira,
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> It is good to hear your voice (through the written word). It is a shame you didn't write sooner, because it might have helped me. However, I am sympathetic. At the hear of your reluctance to write is shame. You are not alone. Shame is the taboo we hold highest. It is the itch I had to scratch, the reason I was locked away - I wanted to puncture that perfection.
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> I have spent a lot of time reading, much as I did before them killings. Through reading, I have better understood myself. I know that my place is here, in a minimal and confined space. In my early life I was searching for that confinement without realising it. Even now, I would have difficulty living outside. I would feel the persistent need to transgress, much as I did on that day.
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> I have regrets of course. I regret that those people died for nothing but my pleasure. After I killed them, they became nothing. Hear me blaspheme! We are not gods. There is NOTHING after life. (Hello Warden, I know you are reading this.) Xhaka.
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## Section 3

> Dear Xhaka,
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> You're wrong, it's not shame I feel, it's guilt.
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> I often wonder if I could have influenced you, coerced you even, away from the path you took.
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> It is a strange byproduct of your crime, that I have also lost my faith. No matter how good life can be, your existence alone undercuts it. You spoiled things, and I feel as much a god as a tiny beetle.
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> But something about it seems very unfair. Even if you were pure evil, which I know you are not, I would still want to help you. Our other friends have moved on - I cannot, because I was there when you did it. How do I move on from that?
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> Diira.
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## Section 4

> Diira,
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> It's like I've you've never been away. i can hear that neurotic, convictionless voice of yours. I did something because I could, now I am punished for it. It is no more complicated than that. Let's end these communications, as I am not sure it is good for either of us.
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> I am proud to be the only citizen who has killed in two hundred years. Serving this sentence I have heard only my own voice, and the voices of my two cellmates. You add an exhausting fourth voice, and I don't want to hear it.
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> I was expecting sports news, the story of your career, not
> adolescent psychoanalysis. Leave me alone.
> NEVER WRITE AGAIN.
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> Xhaka
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