Entry 10: The fate of twins

Dear Diary,
 
Early in the morning, Luke was itching to give the menhir another shot, or perhaps he was just eager to test out the new spell he stumbled upon during his trip to the library the day before. Not feeling quite adventurous enough to join him in that garden again, I opted to stay behind at the inn and enjoy my breakfast in peace.
 
He returned about half an hour later, sporting a goofy grin that practically screamed success. It turns out, the menhir serves as a gateway to the feywild. It can be used to converse with those on the other side and even travel to the feywild, provided one possesses the right kind of magic. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that such power is beyond our reach. I can't help but imagine Liliana leaping through that portal without a second thought if given the chance.
 
As we neared the caravan, our conversation faded into the background, replaced by the sound of Onvyr's booming voice directed at Edward, who remained surprisingly composed despite the verbal onslaught. It appeared that Edward had made the bold decision to dismiss his guards, opting instead for a journey to Keralon that embraced more of an adventurous spirit. Elsa watched with a creased brow, clearly worried as her brother attempted to reason with Onvyr, emphasizing that he felt no need for constant supervision by babysitters and desired a taste of genuine excitement.
 
As we prepared to venture through Lorewood once more, I couldn't help but ponder whether all nobles and their kin shared this same level of naivety and recklessness. So far, it certainly seemed that way.
With our guard count diminished by four, we bid farewell to Hillfield and set off westward toward Lorewood. Just outside the gates, we encountered Dorr, the duergar, who surprisingly harbored no ill will towards us, despite all that had happened in the sewers. It struck me then, how enigmatic mercenaries truly are.
 
Perched at the back of the cart, I watched as Hillfield dwindled into the distance, my thoughts swirling with uncertainty about what awaited us in Keralon. Would it prove to be just as underwhelming? Anticipation had initially fueled my excitement for this journey, but what had happened in Hillfield had left a bitter taste in my mouth. The weather mirrored my somber mood, the sky heavy with dark clouds and the threat of rain looming overhead.
 
Before long, the familiar embrace of Lorewood enveloped us, offering some semblance of comfort amidst the unsettling atmosphere. Yet, as the narrow path snaked its way through the dense forest, I couldn't shake the feeling of being hemmed in by the towering trees. The encroaching foliage only added to the eerie sensation that clung to our journey, exacerbated by the dreary weather.
 
An hour or so into the woods, we encountered a fork in the road. As Liliana, Alistan, and Gael led the caravan, their keen eyes caught sight of riding horses concealed amidst the bushes. Oddly, there were no riders in sight, and the horses appeared agitated, bearing slight wounds. Upon closer inspection, we noticed the distinct markings of the Hillfield guards adorning the horses' saddles. It became evident that this was the patrol dispatched to apprehend Griselda.
 
Leaving the carts behind, we ventured toward the old guard post further down the road. Upon arrival, the scene painted a grim picture of recent violence – blood mingling with the mud and signs of struggle scattered about. As we surveyed the area, Griselda emerged from the shadows of the decrepit tower, her countenance a mixture of disappointment and fury directed at Ileas. She demanded answers, questioning his betrayal and his decision to send guards after her, guards she had ultimately slain. But Ileas, resolute and unwavering, stood his ground, proclaiming his allegiance to Hillfield in face of Griselda's accusations.
 
Enraged by Ileas's steadfast loyalty, Griselda muttered a single word in sylvan, a language unknown to most but unmistakably magical. In an instant, a displacer beast, previously concealed from sight, lunged down from the roof, its predatory instincts set on us.
 
Reacting swiftly, Gael invoked primal incantations, summoning roots from the earth to ensnare both the beast and its sinister satyr companion. Meanwhile, Liliana and Alistan wasted no time in launching a fierce assault on the creature, their determination palpable.
 
Despite our efforts to restrain her, Griselda managed to break free from the entangling vines and fled into the depths of the woods, her escape facilitated by the dense foliage. Desperately, I attempted to halt her with my own magic, but my spells proved futile, and soon she vanished from view.
 
Upon my return to the scene, the skirmish had concluded, with my companions emerging victorious over the displaced beast. A quick investigation of the tower revealed the grisly fate that had befallen the guards – not only had the creature slaughtered them, it had also feasted upon their remains, leaving behind a scene of horror and carnage.
 
Back at the caravan, we found ourselves faced with a crucial decision on how to proceed. The prospect of retracing our steps to Hillfield seemed impractical, wasting precious time we could ill afford. Yet, the idea of commandeering the abandoned horses, as Borr suggested, left a sour taste in our mouths.
 
As Alistan and Borr delved into a debate about the merits of vigilantes and the peculiarities of pet goats, I took it upon myself to dispatch Fiachna to Sergeant Berris with a report of the recent events and the whereabouts of his missing guards and their steeds.
 
With the weight of our misfortune hanging heavy upon us, we pressed onward through the oppressive gloom of Lorewood. The only solace amidst the darkness came in the form of occasional rays of sunlight illuminating the majestic figure of Sylvesse. It appeared that Gael's enigmatic companion had once again taken up the mantle of our protector, providing a glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak journey.
 
I would say that the rest of the day passed uneventfully, but it had a final unexpected twist yet. As evening descended, we halted our journey and set up camp alongside the winding road. After a hasty meal accompanied by jovial songs and tales, Robert withdrew to his cart, intent on transcribing passages from an ancient tome he had acquired.
 
Intrigued by Robert's choice of reading material, Liliana approached him, only to discover that he was delving into a collection of fairy tales and folklore procured from Hillfield. However, the book's worn and weathered state prompted her to urge Luke to employ his magical talents to preserve it.
 
Yet, Luke's magical prowess leaned more towards destruction than preservation. Fortunately, or perhaps by some twist of fate, I possess the ability to mend broken things. As I took the book into my hands to mend its tattered pages, a single page drifted free, catching my eye with its cryptic contents, causing a chill to run down my spine.
 
The ancient poem, "One Soul," unveiled itself before my eyes, its verses laden with the weight of prophecy, foretelling the intertwined destinies of twins bound by fate yet doomed to lose each other. One destined to descend into darkness. A shiver coursed through my being as I absorbed the ominous words, their significance searing into my consciousness. Could Luke and I truly be fated to part ways, condemned to an eternal separation? The mere thought sent a chill down my spine, my heart heavy with dread at the prospect of losing my beloved brother.
 
With trembling hands, I transcribed the haunting prophecy into the pages of this book, determined never to forget its chilling warning. Reluctantly, I returned the tome to its owner, concocting a hasty excuse to depart. Rushing back to the safety of our camp, I gently pulled Luke away from his tender exchange with Elsa, needing to share the burden of my discovery with him. Perhaps united, we could devise a plan to defy this ominous fate that loomed over us, to forge a future where we remained bound together, despite the dark omens that threatened to tear us apart.
 
8th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree