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Appendix II: An archive entry for a certain Kshahrewar thesis. Title: Decoding the Runes and Architectural Philosophy of the Ruins of King Deshret's Civilization. Author: Kaveh, Kshahrewar. Although the initial research project is filed as collaborative, no co-authors have signed their names under the final thesis. A short dedication is listed in the registry: To Alhaitham, for the valuable translations. Three large drop marks can be seen on the title page; they look vaguely like tear stains.
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Two months after the fallout of that fateful project, Alhaitham no longer thought about Kaveh.
Not constantly, anyway. Not as much as when the wound was still fresh.
So when Alhaitham closed the office door behind him, he did not think about how it looked almost identical to the one Kaveh had slammed in his face. He picked out a stack of thesis summaries that needed to be processed for the registry, and as he filed the relevant data points into his Akasha terminal, Alhaitham did not wonder what Kaveh would say about the academic developments Sumeru had seen since they parted ways.
He worked methodically about a third of the way through. Then he froze.
It was an inconspicous registration form, filed in the same precise, mechanical handwriting that Alhaitham had become all too familiar with. The title was the same, the only difference the single researcher listed in the byline. Kaveh, Kshahrewar. Alhaitham had struck his own name out himself, back then. It was crude and unfinished, nothing but preliminary findings and open conclusions that called for further research,
But Kaveh had published it.
Alhaitham's heartbeat hammered in his ears. The summary was short, so minimal that he had half a mind to verify if it even met the required word count, but there, in his former best friend's handwriting, was a very brief dedication. To Alhaitham.
His vision blurred. As he gripped the paper in his trembling hand, he vaguely registered the sound of a drop hitting the page. A second drop sounded before Alhaitham processed what was going on.
Oh. That wasn't good.
A third tear hit the page. Even when they dried, the drops were bound to leave visible stains. In a fit of panic, Alhaitham scrambled to get a better look at the slip of paper. Thankfully, the ink hadn't bled, so the document was still legible.
He laughed shakily.
At least the entry still met the criteria for archive processing.