Lives tied by the deepest of bonds

Kain Highwind has returned to his world.

[His world; not his home. Not for another seventeen years, barring a miracle or some sort of alternate universe, and with no letters to compensate for that absence, either.

Cecil would like to stop writing there, to pretend the letters on the page are not shakier than usual, but he cannot allow himself to be so irresponsible either, considering the state of the house.]

I have too much food for a single person, now, and I'd rather not see it go to waste. Should you want any, please come to house nine. Some of it is already prepared, if that is more convenient for you.

[There, now that's enough. He just hopes that part will soon be over with. Hiding from the world for a few days sounds better every time he thinks about it.]

[As far as accidental voice messages go, this one is simple enough.

All that can be heard is the journal falling to the ground, and Cecil screaming in pain.

One cannot be expected to take the sudden and brutal loss of a somewhat telepathic father-son connection gracefully, after all.]