Many times on our path, we will stumble. We will lose those who walk beside us. We may get swallowed up by the hazards at the sides, from where our destination seems an impossible goal. And yet, there is a place for us who have suffered. A haven that protects and shelters from the agony we can face on the path.

But this was not always the case. There once was another who walked the path. Torn from her family, and cast into the wilderness. She was lost, adrift on a never-ending sea. The boundaries seemed unreachable, the tides unsurpassable.

But a hand was extended. A promise was made. Strangers helped her back on the path, and led her onwards to where two roads joined together. Although she did not realise it at the time, she had found a new family.

I would be lying to tell you that there was no more tribulation, that there were no more trials. There were. But through it all, the wanderer emerged, transforming the home of her family into a citadel, a beacon for all those others who wander.

Some day, my friend, you too may be cast out into the ocean. But when the waters threaten to swallow you up and the waves come crashing down, remember this: there are those out there, who will fight tooth and claw to save you. There is a house for people like us. And we owe it to the one who was lost, and the family that she found.

–A story told from colonists on Pyrhna IX to their children