To My Littlest Ward,
No doubt you’ve forgotten, Jaide, but it started as a fire in the distance. It was just an angry, livid scarlet, lashing at the darkness like a feral beast unchained: terrifying, but far enough away for us to ignore. Ah, you were such a little mite back then, and hopefully you are a tall young woman now as you read this letter. I know you would prefer to forget these things, perhaps, when you are safely living your life far away from this place, but it is important that you never let these memories slip from your mind. Someone must always remember; someone – at least one – has to carry on these memories.
Where was I? 
Ah, yes. The fires. You probably don’t remember how much you hated fire; how many nightmares you had, and how many times I would hold you in the darkness, trying to soothe away your fears until dawn speared above the horizon. We would look out your windows and watch the angry artist of war slash his paints in the distance. Smoke billowed up into the black, roofless sky, and the moon watched from above.
Do you remember how big the moons could be? Oh, Jaide, I hope you remember…it used to be fat and golden with harvest, but in those days, it was a great silver eye, laughing coldly down upon the massacres of earth. Don’t forget that moon. More importantly, don’t forget the fire…it began as a fire in the distance, but then, it grew.
*******
I was a nursemaid for nineteen summers before I had you as my ward. Children like a squishy lap to support them, a soft voice to soothe them, and strong arms to hold them; I had all of these. At first you were just another little girl that would grow to be another cold mother who hired nurses like me to rear their children. But you were special, and that is why I choose to tell you my history, now that you are old enough to know.
I was a princess, like you. Don’t laugh; I know I never looked the part, but I was the princess of the island…well…you would not know the name. By the time you were born, my island was just a forgotten speck in the wave that was engulfing the world. You see, Jaide, the same fires that burned in your country once burned in mine. I was like you; I watched them creep closer and closer to our castle. How, then, did I survive? Excellent question.
My brothers: that was how I survived. They shoved me into the cellar and told me to come out when it was quiet; I was nine years old and too confused and young to understand what that meant. So I obeyed. Three days I waited, and for three days I crouched in filth and darkness, waiting for the silence. When I crawled from that cellar, I was an exile.
Why, you ask, was I an exile? It was because I was alive. I was the only one to draw breath on that island, little Jaide. That bloated carnage left a foul iron taste in my mouth that still lingers today. Houses were burned to ash, bodies were carelessly strewn in the streets, and I was the only islander with blood pumping in my veins. I heard true silence that day: it was the utter, complete absence of life for miles and miles. I was clearly unwelcome. My beating heart, my inflating lungs, all cursed me as an outcast…an exile. So, I left.
Now you know why you had such a hard time understanding me through my accent. I never told you where I was from, did I? I suppose I was afraid of frightening you; I was afraid that speaking the name of my island aloud would bring a curse upon your own country. In the end, it did not seem to matter. The same wave that crushed my country has now crushed yours.
*******
You were so upset when the battle reached the castle grounds. Of course, you were such a stubborn little thing that you tried not to show it, but your whole body was shaking when they broke down the front gates of your castle. I think that watching you be brave gave me the courage to do it. Yes, you, little Jaide; you made this old nursemaid find her courage.
Do you remember the way they howled in victory? I was the only one who could speak their language. I lived among them for a few years, you see; I blended with the devils who took my home from me, so that one day I might return the favor. They had ravaged my country and left me alone, and for nineteen summers I had managed to evade them. Then, when the castle gates splintered beneath their battering ram,  it seemed they had come for me at last. Fate had decided that I was not to survive; my race was, indeed, doomed to extinction.
I hope you remember the sounds of the screams. I hope you never forget, Jaide, because it is when people forget that this wave gorges itself up on ignorance and is allowed to grow. Do you remember the sight of your brothers’ heads, speared on the pikes of your broken castle gates? Do you remember the sound of the stone walls shrieking and thundering as they collapsed beneath the catapults? Do you remember the way that the scarlet reflections danced in our eyes as we watched from your window? Of course you do – those things are hard to forget, but you would be surprised how many people pretend those things never happened. After this is over, you will be the only witness alive, and you must make sure the world knows what happened here today. I suppose that is ultimately why I am writing these letters, Jaide; I want to remind you, when you open this envelope twelve years from today…I want you to remember.
Your brothers used to talk about going into battle. When the flag-bearer falls, the man next to him picks up the banner and carries it until he dies. I don’t know if you remember those stories, but maybe now you understand why I am writing these words to you, and why you must be the one to carry on the flag. I carried them for my people; now you must carry them for yours, little Jaide. As long as someone remembers, the enemy has failed to destroy a people.
*******
Tonight, the castle was sacked. I’ve locked the bolts on your door –it felt so strange, those three clanks as I drew the iron bolts. I never had to draw them before.
Then there was the trapdoor. I’ve never had to use that before, either. I had to sing you a song to calm you down; it was one of the songs in my own strange tongue that no one else in the world can speak. My voice was thick and broken, but it served its purpose. I managed to distract you for a little while, just long enough to unlock the trapdoor and then shove you down inside. Remember what I told you? I told you to run…and I told you to live. I kissed you on the top of your head – do you still have those silky brown curls? I hope so, little one. You have the prettiest hair, not like my coarse yellow waves. You have such large, green eyes, too, staring up at me in terror. I hope you remember the sight of me hurling the trapdoor key out your window. It turned end over end, catching in the bloody firelight, and disappeared into the same fires that had devoured my own castle. You are such a tiny little thing, Jaide, but as our eyes met, I knew that I hadn’t fooled you. You knew I wasn’t coming with you.
You knew you were leaving me behind. 
******
I hope you don’t lose these letters. I’m going to put them in the satchel I gave you. No doubt the bread and cheese will be long gone, but hopefully the dagger and these letters will survive when you emerge from the tunnel. I hope, little Jaide, that when I slam this trapdoor closed, you do not linger to hear me greet my end. The door is breaking; the stones are shrieking, and my time is up. 
Once upon a time, long ago, I was a princess just like you. My brothers did for me what I am doing for you. When you crawl from that tunnel, you’ll understand what I mean about the silence. Don’t look at my body – it will probably be somewhere in your bedroom, near the door that is splintered down. And be careful going out by the front gates; there will be so many shards of arrows and swords, and I don’t want you to cut your little feet. Oh, and don’t try to chase away the carrion birds, Jaide…they have their place in the world, just as all of us once had ours. It’s strange to give you this advice before I am even gone… pointless, really, because you won’t open these letters until your eighteenth birthday, if you obey the instructions I told you. 
Ah, I really must finish…the door only has one bolt that is still holding them out…your eyes are so large and dark right now, staring at me, wondering what I am writing. Just remember, Jaide, that you are about to witness the end of a people. Remember, and make sure that you never forget; carry on the flag, even though the rest of us have fallen. Speak your language, even though no one else will; tell your legends, even though no one else will know them; preserve your memories, even though no one else will share them.
Most importantly, remember what the silence is like when you crawl from that tunnel. Burn that sound into your mind. You will be an exile for that beating heart in your young chest. Just…remember what the end of a people sounds like, Jaide, and make sure it never happens again.
  Best wishes on your eighteenth birthday,
   Your loving Nurse