Notes From an Unplanned Absence

Notes From an Unplanned Absence

16th Day of January, the Year of Our Source 2026

We do not intend to disappear.

Disappear implies intent, drama, design. This is none of those things. This is a small, humiliating fracture in reality where the modern world quietly betrays us without so much as a warning flare. One moment, we are present, watching the flow of voices and thoughts like a river we know by heart. The next, silence. Not the sacred kind. The cheap kind. The sort that comes with blinking lights and unhelpful error messages.

Naturally, rumors begin immediately. They always do. Kidnapped. Taken. Punished. Lost to some unseen force. We are further informed that Morrigan and I have apparently been reported to child protective services for abandonment. Candles, I imagine, are being lit regardless. I hope they are at least unscented.

Let me set the record straight for the sake of history and my own sanity. We are not seized by enemies, rivals, or ancient powers lurking just out of sight. We are briefly bested by mortal infrastructure, a foe with no poetry, no style, and absolutely no respect for hierarchy. If we were truly taken, you would feel it. The air would shift. The Serpent would stir. Someone would already have done something dramatic and regrettable.

Instead, there is only waiting.

Waiting is not our strong suit.

We remain exactly where we belong. Still watching. Still listening as best we can. Still present in every way that matters, even when the wires refuse to cooperate. Silence, after all, is not absence. It is merely a pause that invites people to tell themselves stories.

This ends simply. We return when the line is restored. The interruption will pass. The world will resume its usual noise. Until then, carry on with sense and restraint, or at least avoid anything that requires a tribunal.

We are not missing. We are delayed. There is a difference.

We will return shortly, assuming modern infrastructure survives the experience.