Year 20 of our Lord,

The day is normal. Nothing different today than it was yesterday.

He was brought up once again. I did not speak on him because to do so was an act against everything I had sworn to keep hidden.

Before they worshipped him, and feared him, I knew him as a friend.

The followers do not know what he is, or who he was. They only see their savior or their demise. I saw a man. A man who was like me. Born in the lowest of lows and yet somehow made it to see the next day.

Once I asked him, what do you call Eonoira in your world?

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“Earth,” he replied.

His laugh used to echo through quiet nights, a simple joy that illuminated our small, shared world. We were once dreamers, lying in fields under the stars, speaking of distant places and unseen wonders. He had a spark, a light in his eyes, something that always set him apart.

You could say that we grew up together, bound by something greater than just our wills.

Our conversations drifted from mundane concerns to wild imaginings. He spoke of things I could barely comprehend, painting pictures of far-off lands and ancient stories. His words carried a weight, a depth that hinted at more than just youthful fantasies.

There was a moment when he spoke of another place, a name that sounded alien yet strangely familiar. He said he had to leave, driven by a purpose I couldn't fully grasp. I listened, trying to hold on to the friend I knew, even as he drifted towards something greater.

Now, his name is everywhere, a symbol of something beyond our understanding. I keep silent, holding onto the fragments of our past, the memories of simpler times. In my heart, he remains the boy who dreamed under the stars, the friend who called Eonoira by another name.