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My dear Nicodemus,
I can only express puzzlement, bordering on alarm, at your recent actions, and having informed my superiors at the Lowerarchy, they attached me to your case, considering our long correspondence and professional relationship. To begin, you may have lost your link to us, but rest assured, we have not lost ours to you. You are, and always have been, a valuable piece in our Father Bellow's war with the Enemy.

To begin, I would like to remind you of the cause, now that you have no immediate conduit to us. Your actions, of late, are felt to have done our larger cause more harm then good. Great and obvious destruction has it's virtues, however also creates opportunities for nobility in resisting it, and works of obvious, external evil do us more harm than good, because in confronting humans with something so obviously reprehensible, forcing them to accept the existence of evil as a monolithic force for the most part turns them to the Enemy out of fear.

Far better to encourage them towards selfishness then actual malice, far better to keep them comfortable then desperate. Virtue can only take root, after all, if it has some reason to be, and in a paradoxical way great acts are easier to encourage then small ones. Small, everyday kindnesses depend on sustained, concentrated effort and belief, while lone acts of mythic proportions merely depend on a lone stand against overwhelming odds. In short, nothing special.

You have to remember that humans have an tendency to follow the path of least resistance, remaining comfortable in the shells of what they call 'real life'. Keep them from knowing what they are fighting, or even knowing that they are supposed to be fighting, and you will have them.

However, if you are set on this new recourse, allow me to offer some further advice. Because of the very nature of your actions, resisting you will push focus upon 'The Big Picture'.

As I am sure you have noted, and as I have had a hand in crafting, 'The Big Picture' has been romanticized by humans, even some loyal to the Enemy's camp. It is something I have taken all efforts to encourage. For, you see, once a human gets it into his head that the war must be fought, not simply the current battle, it is almost embarrassing how easy it is to turn conviction into despair.

When confronted by a war that cannot possibly win, one that must be fought by eternal forces, not temporal as they themselves are, it leads to the inevitable and fatal question: "What's the use of me?" This is your greatest weapon, primarily because temporal beings don't often understand the answer. They focus, as you know, upon 'The Big Picture'.

But do not be deceived. Our cause is never more in danger, than when a human, no longer desiring to do our Enemy's will, but still intending to finish what he started, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys.

Perhaps in this I am worrying without cause. After all, you were willing to sacrifice your beloved first wife on the altar of ambition. Fancy, too, that in some circles, that would have been a figure of speech.

Finally, do keep me apprised. I shall attempt to advise you as things go, as your new handler. If that sword continues following you, I suggest something drastic, perhaps feeding it with souls you cannot make use of, if only to deny them to the enemy. But under no circumstances attempt to engage with it, no human, demon or god can break you free from it once it lays it's claim.

Your Good Friend,

Screwtape

P.S. Do keep this letter under lock and key. I cannot begin to tell you the difficulties I was thrown into when that pestilential Lewis fellow went and published another correspondence of mine.


I'll leave you to figure out how much of that he's being honest and how much he's manipulating the man.

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In a realm beyond the edges of madness, where reason was as anathema as magic is in many universes, two beings played a game.

The board shifted and changed shape, as did the pieces, and the functions the pieces performed. They took turns, but there was no rhyme or reason to them, at times one or the other would watch, dispassionately, as the other took as many moves as he wished, while at other times the game was hotly contested. They seemed well content to move the others pieces, if indeed either did possess them. At times, pieces would be placed on the board or taken away with no explanation.

They were the Lords of Chaos, the principles of unfettered change that were by their nature monomaniacal and completely single-minded since they are formed entirely of a single emotion or concept. And, with the collapse of the worlds of the wyld, the barrier between them and the world of reason was collapsing.

And Arioch watched as those who had held vigil turned on those they protected, and saw it was good.