Hayley Thomas

Hayley Thomas

Hayley is the twin sister of Luke Thomas, born with magical abilities due to some unknown (to them) magical mishap.

View Character Profile
Alignment
Chaotic Good
Children
Gender
Female
Eyes
Brown
Hair
Black
Height
5ft1
Weight
110lbs

Entry 32: A boggle named Pim
30th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Dear diary,   During breakfast, it became clear that Liliana hadn't had the best night—she looked even paler than usual, her already fair complexion drained of color. She dismissed it casually, blaming something she ate the night before and assuring us that some fresh air would do the trick. None of us thought much of it at the time, but in hindsight, it felt like an omen.   After breakfast, Liliana and I made our way to the Dresner farm to check on Tommel. As we walked, we crossed paths with Naira, who was heading to the keep as promised to help with the cleaning. She seemed in good spirits, and I hoped that Tommel was on the mend. When we arrived, it was a relief to see him much improved, though still too weak to hold a conversation. Liliana and I shared a look of relief; the curse seemed to be fading.   When we rejoined Leen downstairs to let her know that Tommel was on the path to recovery, something unusual caught our attention. The eggs she was preparing for breakfast were larger than normal—far too large for any regular bird. Naturally, our curiosity got the better of us, and we asked her about it. Leen explained that they had found a large goose about six months ago. My mind instantly connected the dots—could it be one of Auntie Patty's geese? If so, perhaps their refusal to return it was the cause of Tommel’s curse. It was just a theory for now, but one I intended to investigate further once Tommel was well enough to talk.   We made our way back to the keep, only to be greeted by a familiar face—Dorr. It had been a while since we last saw him, so naturally, I greeted him with a warm hug, feeling the questions bubbling up. What had brought him here after so long? It wasn’t long before he revealed his purpose—he had come to offer his services in helping renovate the keep and the village. Of course, this offer came with the promise of fair payment.   Dorr’s presence brought a sense of nostalgia, but also the recognition that rebuilding Dogville wouldn’t be an easy task. His skills would be invaluable, especially with the state of disrepair we had seen. Now it was just a matter of negotiating the terms. As Dorr made his rounds through the keep, inspecting what needed repairs, a new debate over taxes arose. The official records revealed that Dogville owed an annual tax of around 4,000 silver to the crown—an already considerable sum, and one likely to increase as more people moved into the area. The growing population brought potential for more wealth, but also more expenses, and the question of how to manage that balance stirred up differing opinions.   Gael argued against taxing the people in the first few years. His reasoning was that waiving taxes could build trust and loyalty among the locals. While I technically don't have a say in these administrative decisions, I couldn't help but offer my own perspective. Instead of foregoing taxes entirely, why not show the people that their contributions would directly benefit them? We could use the funds to improve infrastructure, hire guards, and generally make Dogville a better place to live. Earning their favor by action, not leniency.   The debate lingered unresolved, and the decision was pushed back for another time.   Soon after, Liliana, Dadroz, and Alistan left to help the people of Ravensfield settle into their new homes, while Gael, Luke, and I stayed behind to continue organizing the keep. I spent the afternoon working in my garden, carefully planting the herbs I'd collected, enjoying the peaceful rhythm of the soil. It was shaping up nicely, and I could already imagine the fresh, fragrant air that would come from it in time.   But my tranquility was interrupted by a sharp call from Luke. I rushed inside and found him in his library, which looked like it had been ravaged by a storm. Books and papers were scattered everywhere, and the shelves were in disarray. "Some of my scrolls are missing," Luke said, his voice tense. "And there are footprints." He pointed to the floor outside the library, where small, almost childlike footprints were visible in the dust.   It was a curious and unsettling discovery. Who—or what—could have snuck into the keep? And why steal Luke's scrolls? The mystery of it all had me on edge, and I could tell from Gael’s furrowed brow that he felt the same.   Whoever it was, they were small, quick, and stealthy. It was time to investigate.   I reached out with my mind, probing the surrounding area for any sentient presence, using my mental abilities to sense any hidden creature. My suspicions proved right when I detected a small mind hiding under Luke’s bed. Without hesitation, I moved over and lifted the sheets, peering into the darkness below. For a fleeting moment, I caught sight of a small figure, no larger than a gnome, its form obscured in the shadows. But before I could fully grasp what I was looking at, the creature vanished, slipping through the floor via a portal, leaving nothing behind.   It all clicked into place. I’d read about creatures like this in ancient texts—boggles. Mischievous fey beings, adept at hiding in shadows and capable of creating rifts in any surface they touch, allowing them to disappear at will. Catching one would be tricky; detaining it even more so.   This encounter left us with troubling questions. How long had the boggle been lurking in the keep? Was it merely a chance visitor, or had someone sent it—perhaps one of Luke’s countless enemies—to spy or cause harm? The latter seemed likely given Luke’s reputation and his many rivalries. But the real concern was, what exactly had it been after?   When the others returned later that afternoon, we filled them in on the situation. Dadroz, ever the practical strategist, suggested setting a trap. He quickly realized that the heart of the mischief centered around Luke's library, the place where the creature had first been detected. Determined to put an end to the boggle’s antics, Dadroz took up a hidden position in the library, patiently waiting for the fey creature to return.   And he didn’t have to wait long. Just as he had predicted, the boggle reappeared, slipping quietly through another portal. But this time, it wasn’t fast enough. A well-placed arrow from Dadroz’s bow struck the creature, knocking it out cold. We had managed to subdue it, at least for the moment.   Dadroz woke the rest of us up, his footsteps urgent yet measured as he explained that the creature was secured. We quickly gathered to discuss the best way to handle the situation. It was clear that the moment the boggle regained consciousness, it would attempt to escape. Knowing it needed to physically touch a surface to open one of its portals, we decided on a simple but effective solution: hang it from the ceiling, tied securely by a rope.   With the plan in place, I cast a healing spell on the boggle to mend its wounds. Its eyes fluttered open, darting around in a state of blind panic as it realized it was suspended and unable to escape. It wriggled in the air, but there was no surface it could touch to slip away. For the first time since we encountered it, we had the upper hand.   Liliana, with her soothing presence, began speaking to it in Sylvan, the ancient tongue of the fey. Her words seemed to calm the creature, though it still glanced around warily. Gael took this moment to ask it a few questions. Why had it been stealing from us? How long had it been living in the keep?   The boggle blinked in confusion, its expression almost childlike as it explained in broken Sylvan that it had been living in the house for a long time, long before we arrived. To it, the keep had been abandoned, and the things it took were just shiny trinkets—nothing more than harmless treasures to a fey creature.   Realizing that the boggle, while mischievous, wasn’t malicious, we decided to strike a deal. We offered it a small chest to keep under the stairs, where it could place the things it "borrowed." That way, it could satisfy its need to collect shiny objects, and we would always know where to look if something went missing.   The boggle seemed delighted by the arrangement, its fear subsiding as it accepted the chest with a giddy nod. And just like that, we had made peace with the little creature: Pim, our very own house boggle.   Though its presence would surely add a layer of unpredictability to our lives in the keep, Pim seemed more of a quirky companion than a threat. It would no doubt cause minor mischief from time to time, but at least now we had a way to manage it, and in a strange way, Pim was now part of our unusual household.  

Entry 31: of Dogville and Geese
29th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Dear diary,   It was early morning, the day after the palace party, when a messenger knocked on our door. He carried a summons from Nordic, the royal administrator, requesting us to meet him at the old keep in Dogville by noon. There, he promised to give us a tour of our new domain and hand over the keys.   After a much-needed breakfast of bread, cheese, and eggs—meant to ease the lingering effects of all the wine we’d consumed the night before—we gathered at Erna’s Wish. Climbing atop our newly gifted warhorses, we set off towards Dogville. The crisp morning air helped clear our heads as we rode, the rhythmic clopping of hooves providing a soothing backdrop to the anticipation bubbling within us.   When we arrived, Nordic, an old man leaning heavily on a weathered walking cane, was already waiting for us outside the keep. His face broke into a pleasant smile as he greeted us warmly. With a grunt, he pushed open the heavy doors of the long-abandoned stronghold, guiding us inside for the tour. Dust lingered in the air as we walked through the halls, but despite years of disuse, the place was in remarkably good shape. It would take some work to turn it into something livable, but the bones of the keep were strong and sound.   After the tour, Nordic suggested a walk around Dogville, where we could meet the few inhabitants that still called the quiet village home.   Our first stop was at one of the two farms in Dogville, this one owned by a burly, friendly man named Darrion Farik. He greeted us with a wide grin, his massive arms still dusty from the fields. When we asked if he had any concerns, Darrion mentioned a long-standing dispute with the other farmer in town, a man named Dresner, over a particular fishing spot. His tone was light, but there was an edge to his words that hinted at the depth of the rivalry.   As we made our way to the next stop, the old Royal Kennel, Nordic took the opportunity to advise us on a less pleasant matter—taxes. Apparently, in order to rebuild the keep and breathe life back into the estate, we’d need to start levying them. I stayed silent on the matter, leaving it for my companions to decide. I’ve never had much interest in the day-to-day workings of estates, and this one was no exception.   My friends, equally hesitant, agreed to discuss it later. By the time we arrived at the kennel, we were greeted by a half-elf tending to a group of sleek hunting dogs. He spotted us immediately and approached with a casual swagger, introducing himself as Thomas Teller, the kennel’s owner. Thomas was quick to share his ambition—to restore the kennel to its former glory as the Royal Kennel. Apparently, after the Revolt years ago, the court had stopped using his dogs, and while he wasn’t sure of the exact reasons, it was clear that the turmoil had something to do with it.   As we spoke, it became clear that Thomas still harbored hope, a quiet determination to see the kennel regain its lost prestige.   Our next stop was the Rusty Crab, a small tavern that only had outdoor seating, packed with travelers. The half-orc chef, Ayza, seemed too caught up in her work to even notice us. The place was buzzing with people, and I couldn’t help but be curious, so I queued up for a takeaway portion of her food. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, but it was good and reasonably priced—perfect for the midday rush.   While I snacked, we continued our little tour, heading toward the Grubby Gryphon, Dogville’s local inn. The place was nearly empty when we entered, save for a lone bard in the corner, tuning his instrument, and the inn’s owner, a halfling named Gideon Mudfoot. Gideon welcomed us with enthusiastic energy, but it didn’t take long for him to dive into his grievances. He believed Dogville needed a "firm hand" due to the number of travelers and criminals passing through, and his bitterness toward Ayza and her popular tavern was almost laughable. I rolled my eyes when he suggested we investigate her as if her success was somehow criminal.   Gideon’s problem was clear—his place catered to a different crowd with pricier food and drink, while Ayza’s Rusty Crab offered a quick, cheap bite for travelers. Instead of realizing there was room for both, he seemed determined to turn it into a competition. Still, he tried to sweeten the deal by offering a "substantial donation" to help repair the keep—a not-so-subtle attempt at buying our favor.   After the inn, we made our way to the ferry, where we were greeted by an unexpected but familiar face—Tevon, the bugbear ferryman who had helped us during our mission to intercept the Fenhunter’s army. Tevon smiled as he spotted us and casually let slip that he was running a side business, smuggling people and goods into the city after hours. The bugbear offered to cut us in if we allowed him to continue operating without interference.   As we headed toward our final destination, the second farm, a heated discussion broke out amongst us. Alistan, ever the paragon of law and order, argued we couldn’t allow Tevon’s illegal activities to continue unchecked. He was adamant about putting an end to the smuggling. Luke, on the other hand, took a more pragmatic approach, insisting that shutting down Tevon’s operation would only create a vacuum that someone worse could easily fill. I sided with my brother. In a city like Keralon, smuggling wasn’t something you could simply eradicate. If we removed Tevon, another smuggler would take his place, and we’d lose the small bit of control we currently had.   I saw it as a tax, an unspoken agreement that allowed us to keep one foot in the underbelly of the city while maintaining some oversight. Alistan, with all his time spent among the nobility, hadn’t quite grasped how the real world worked—the shadowy undercurrents that governed life in places like Dogville. My time in the less savory parts of Keralon had taught me otherwise.   We decided to table the debate for later, as we approached the last stop: the Dresner farm. However, just before we reached the farm, we were ambushed—by a small child brandishing a wooden sword. The little boy, no older than six or seven, introduced himself as none other than the “famous knight Bas,” demanding we surrender. Alistan, bless his noble heart, played along perfectly, pretending to be intimidated by the tiny knight’s bravado.   Not long after, a woman hurried over, clearly flustered. She introduced herself as Leen Dresner, Bas’s mother, and apologized profusely for her son’s antics. We assured her it was no trouble and even gave the boy a small treat, which earned us a wide, toothy grin. Leen led us the rest of the way to the farm, which was old and clearly in need of repairs. The roof sagged, the walls were worn down, and the whole place had an air of neglect.   She explained her husband, Tommel, was bedridden with illness, and their daughter Noira was tending to him. There was a heaviness in her voice when she spoke of Tommel’s condition, and though she tried to put on a brave face, it was clear that running the farm alone was taking its toll on her.   Liliana and I decided to check on Tommel, while the others stayed with Leen. Inside the dimly lit room, we were greeted by their daughter, Noira, who looked worried. She explained that her father had been suffering from a high fever for over a week, and none of the remedies they had tried made a difference. They’d even sent for healers from the city, but nothing had worked.   Something about the situation didn’t sit right with me. I suspected there might be more at play than just illness. After a quick glance at Tommel, pale and barely conscious, I brewed two of my witch’s potions. The first, designed to cleanse the body of poison, slid down his throat without any immediate effect. But when I administered the second brew—crafted to lift curses—something changed. His pale cheeks flushed with color, and the fever that had held him in its grip began to break. The curse, whatever it was, had been removed.   I told Noira to keep an eye on him and to let me know if anything changed, then left him to rest. When we rejoined the others, Leen had just finished sharing some troubling news. Apparently, travelers passing through had been causing problems, particularly with their daughter. That was something we’d need to address—perhaps establishing a guard or watch around Dogville to keep the locals safe. But that wasn’t all. They had a painting of Sylvesse, the ancient elven hero. I could already imagine Gael’s excitement once he learned about it. I was sure he’d have plenty of questions for Tommel once he was well enough to speak.   After I told Leen about the curse that had afflicted her husband, her expression darkened. She got up and fetched a basket of apples from a nearby cupboard. She explained that a strange old woman had given her these apples a few weeks ago, but Tommel had chased the woman away, feeling uneasy about her. I couldn’t help but wonder if these apples were linked to the curse. I asked Luke to check them for any lingering traces of magic, but all he found was a simple preservation spell. Nothing uncommon or alarming.   Still, the timing of the curse and the appearance of the strange old woman felt like more than just coincidence. I’d have to keep a closer eye on this and make sure we weren’t dealing with something darker than we initially thought.   I made a mental note to check on Tommel every day, and I’d be sure to ask him about the old woman once he was well enough to talk. If she was behind the curse, we’d need more information about who she was and what her motives might have been.   Leen, clearly grateful for what we’d done for her husband, offered us Noira’s help to clean up the old keep. It was a kind gesture, and it would certainly help us get the place in shape. When Leen mentioned the keep, Alistan, ever the curious one, asked her about the previous nobles who had ruled over Dogville. She told us they were called the Crestfall family, and from her description, they sounded like your typical detached and arrogant nobility, more concerned with collecting taxes than the well-being of their people. Apparently, they had dealt with some unsavory characters from outside the city, which didn’t surprise me. Nobles with dirty hands were nothing new.   Their downfall had come some twenty years ago, when they were arrested for treason. The father had been executed, and the rest of the family imprisoned. The Crestfalls had left behind a tainted legacy in Dogville, and it seemed like the village had struggled ever since.   We thanked Leen for her help and said our goodbyes, promising that I’d check back in on Tommel the next morning. As we mounted our horses to head back to the keep, I couldn’t help but feel like there was more to uncover here—about the Crestfalls, about the old woman, and maybe even about the curse that had struck Tommel down.   On our way back to the keep, we decided to stop by the Rusty Crab again since the crowd had thinned out. Ayza was much less busy, and I took the chance to compliment her on the food. The way her face lit up told me she truly appreciated it. She was a friendly soul, one I could see myself chatting with more in the future. In our brief conversation, she mentioned that fixing the windmill should be a top priority and suggested we check out the old church in the woods near the keep.   We bid farewell to Ayza and Nordic, who told us he needed to return to court now that the tour was over. As we parted ways, I suggested that we check out the church before heading back since the day was still young. With Gael and Dadroz’s sharp tracking skills leading the way, we found the ruins easily enough, nestled beside an ancient, overgrown graveyard. The place was a relic of the past, its stones weathered by time, but Luke recognized the markings. He mentioned it was once a site dedicated to Belenos, but not the modern-day god—this was for a far older version, one long forgotten by most.   As we stood there, taking in the eerie quiet of the place, someone pointed out strange tracks leading deeper into the woods. They were enormous—goose tracks, but far too big for any ordinary bird. If this goose was real, it would be the size of a horse. Curiosity got the better of us, and we decided to follow the trail into the thick underbrush. The forest resisted our passage, with thorny vines and dense foliage, yet whatever beast made those prints had cut through it like it was nothing. Something strange lurked out here, and we were determined to find out what.   Suddenly, the tangled undergrowth parted to reveal a small clearing, bathed in sunlight. At the heart of it lay a tranquil pond, its surface shimmering with faint ripples. By the water’s edge stood a quaint cottage, nestled beneath a sprawling apple tree. Across the pond, three enormous geese wandered aimlessly, but one among them stood out—the largest, and strangest, goose I had ever seen. It had five heads, each snapping and hissing in a way that reminded me more of a hydra than any bird.   As soon as the geese spotted us, their cacophony filled the clearing, a mix of hisses and honks. The ruckus summoned an old woman from the cottage. She shuffled out, a hunched figure with a worn apron, immediately calming the geese with a wave of her hand before her eyes landed on us.   Gael, ever the diplomat, stepped forward, offering an introduction and explaining why we were there. The old woman listened, then introduced herself as Patty. At the sound of her name, something clicked in my mind. Luke and I exchanged a glance—this wasn’t just any old woman. She had to be Auntie Patty, one of the six hags protected by royal decree. Dangerous, yes, but untouchable by law. The revelation sent a chill down my spine.   I decided to press her gently, asking if she had visited Dogville two weeks ago. Her reaction was odd—she seemed genuinely confused, or at least put on a good show of it. But there was something off. Was she truly disoriented, or simply lying to us? I couldn’t be sure. She was too far away for me to probe her mind, and I hesitated to move closer. One wrong step might rile the geese—or worse, the hag herself.   Luke ventured to inquire about the apples, and Patty confirmed that they were indeed preserved by magic—though only after being harvested. She offered some to my brother, but I could feel a sense of urgency pulsing through me, urging my companions to back away and head back to the keep. Hags were dangerous and fickle creatures, and I feared my friends might unwittingly provoke her. I needed to talk to Tommel first to confirm that this was indeed the woman he had chased away before we made any hasty decisions.   When we finally returned to the keep, Dan was waiting for us, excitement shining in his eyes. He informed us that many of the people from Ravensfield were already making their way over from Keralon, and he requested permission to restart his project and build a barn here in Dogville. Alistan and Luke were immediately opposed to the idea, citing the ban on guilds in Keralon. My blood boiled at their dismissal, especially considering how much Dan had done for these people.   He attempted to reason with them, and Liliana and I joined in to support him, emphasizing that the Consortium he worked for wasn’t a guild and wouldn’t cause any issues. I could see my companions wavering, but it would take more than a simple discussion to change their minds.   While they debated, I sought out the newcomers from Ravensfield, looking specifically for the miller. I found him and sent him to the windmill, explaining that it was in dire need of a new occupant. With the most pressing matters attended to, we finally retreated to the keep, dedicating the rest of the day to organizing our space, or at least unpacking and arranging our respective bedrooms. The keep might have been abandoned for years, but it was beginning to feel like home.

Entry 30: A royal summons
28th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Dear diary,   A few days had slipped by since the chaos at the embassy, giving us just enough time to rest up for the inevitable royal summons. The invitation finally came, calling us to the palace in the early afternoon. Naturally, we agreed to go together as a group, because why not? There’s always some comfort in numbers, especially when facing royalty.   It’s a sight that never fails to entertain me, watching my friends scramble to make themselves presentable. Each of them had dropped a hefty amount of their hard-earned coin on extravagant outfits, dressed to impress the court in all their finery. Meanwhile, I stood out even more by choosing the same simple black dress I’d worn to the embassy party. No frills, no sparkles, just me.   As we approached the palace entrance on Palace Hill, Sir Donovan was already waiting for us. He greeted us with a warm smile, his usual armor replaced by a formal tunic that suited his status. “I hope this visit will be more pleasant than the last,” he said with a chuckle, alluding to the mess we’d gone through last time we were there. He gave us a brief rundown of the day's events. First up was an audience with the king and queen. Then, we’d be officially knighted into our respective orders in a grand ceremony. After that? A party, naturally.   We were even allowed to invite guests. Without much thought, I had a messenger sent to Zem and Saphira.   After briefing us on the day’s itinerary and sending out messengers, Sir Donovan led us to the royal stables. There, he revealed that each of us was being gifted a warhorse from the king’s personal stock. It was an unexpected, but not unwelcome surprise. I suppose if we’re to be knights, we should have steeds to match.   I wasted no time and picked out the smallest black horse in the lot. It seemed skittish, but a quick apple from my robes soothed her nerves. I named her Cara right then and there, feeling a connection almost instantly. As I watched the others struggle—some of them fighting for control over their horses—it was hard not to notice Sir Donovan watching us closely, his sharp eyes measuring each of us. It felt like this was more than just a generous gift; this was a test of our ability to adapt, to lead.   Once everyone managed to wrangle their mounts and climb into their saddles, Sir Donovan took the lead. We followed him up the winding path of Palace Hill, past the towering marble steps of the Octagon, and across the glittering marble bridge that led to the palace itself. Everything was so grand, almost obscenely so. The luxury, the gold, the sheer excess—it was all in sharp contrast to the reality most people faced in the streets below. It stirred something in me, a familiar distaste for the nobility and their careless decadence.   Trumpets blared as we arrived, heralding us like we were something special. We were escorted through a long, richly decorated hallway lined with portraits of the royal family. As we walked, I couldn’t help but notice something unsettling. The last four kings looked eerily similar—too similar. They all had the same sharp features, the same eyes, and even the same scar across their faces. Strangely, the scar seemed to fade over the generations, as if healing slowly with time.   A disturbing thought struck me then. What if the king wasn’t who he claimed to be? What if he wasn’t passing the crown from father to son as everyone believed? Could it be the same man, the same immortal being, pretending to be his own descendants? The royals were known for their dealings with the fey. Could our king be one of them? What secrets did this family hide behind their golden masks?   As these unsettling questions swirled in my mind, we were greeted by a herald wielding a staff crackling with arcane energy. He moved down the line, one by one, checking each of us for magical items, asking our names and heraldic symbols. I watched carefully as the magical staff seemed to pulse in his hands, its light shifting as it passed over each of us, as if seeking secrets hidden beneath the surface.   Once the inspection was complete, the colossal doors behind the herald groaned open, revealing the grandeur of the throne room. The space was breathtaking—vaulted ceilings, polished marble floors that gleamed like water, and rows upon rows of nobles and knights, all waiting for us. As we stepped inside, massive magical projections of our heraldries flickered to life in the air above us, to the sound of polite applause. I couldn’t help but cringe a little as we were led down the long aisle toward the throne, where King Carolus III sat watching.   The king was a towering figure—tall and lean, but radiating power. His gaze was sharp, unwavering, like a hawk assessing its prey. As we approached, he stood and gave a small introduction, thanking us for our service to the city, his voice echoing through the vast chamber. But he didn’t linger in the spotlight. Instead, he invited us to share our own story with the court, his eyes glinting with an almost predatory curiosity.   One by one, we each stepped forward and recounted our journey, filling the throne room with tales of bravery, magic, and peril. I could feel the crowd hanging on every word, watching with rapt attention. Even the king seemed impressed, though his expression was impossible to read entirely. When we finished, the applause was warm, though I could sense a layer of scrutiny beneath the admiration.   Then came the questions. One by one, the king asked us each something pointed, something personal. His tone was polite, but his words were sharp, precise, as if he were peeling back layers to see what truly lay beneath our surfaces. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a matter of royal curiosity. He was testing us, assessing our worth beyond the deeds we’d accomplished. He wanted to know what kind of people we were—what kind of knights we would be.   When it came my turn, I chose not to make a spectacle of my magic. I left the grand gestures and fireworks to my brother, Luke, whose mastery over spells always dazzled in moments like this. My magic was more subtle, more restrained—better suited to saving lives and protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves. There was no need to show off for the sake of applause. The king’s eyes lingered on me for a moment longer than the others, but he said nothing more, moving on to the next.   But I could feel it—the weight of his gaze. He wasn’t just looking at us; he was weighing us. And somewhere, deep inside, I knew that this audience was more than just a formal ceremony. It was a test, one we had only just begun to understand.   As soon as the questioning concluded, King Carolus gestured to the Record Keeper, signaling the second of his gifts. His deep voice filled the room, carrying the weight of his next pronouncement: we were to be elevated into nobility, granted land to care for—a mark of status and responsibility. I could see the gleam of anticipation in the eyes of my companions, but when it came to me, I did something that seemed to genuinely baffle the king—I refused.   The moment stretched out, the king’s brow furrowing slightly in confusion. His gaze fixed on me, as if he couldn’t quite understand my decision. Refusing nobility was a rare thing, almost unheard of. I could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on me, but I stood firm. How could I, in good faith, accept a title I had spent so long railing against? I had always been skeptical of the power and privilege that nobility afforded, especially when so many suffered under their rule. It didn’t suit me—not now, not ever. The people of Ravensfield receiving a new home was reward enough for me.   The king paused, but eventually, he nodded, though I could sense his lingering bewilderment. With that, he moved on, waving us toward our knightly orders, signaling that the formal audience was done. But something in our deeds must have impressed him, for he promised to attend the celebration following the ceremony—a rare honor.   As we exited the grand throne room, heading toward the sprawling cathedral on Palace Hill, Sir Donovan sidled up beside me. His expression was a mix of curiosity and surprise. "Why did you refuse?" he asked, his tone genuinely puzzled. His eyes searched mine, as though he was trying to understand what made me different from the others who had gladly accepted their titles.   I smiled slightly, careful to conceal the full extent of my reasoning. "I’m a witch, first and foremost," I said simply, my voice calm and steady. "Nobility doesn’t suit me." That much was true, though I left out the deeper resentment I held for what nobility represented to me. He seemed to accept my answer with a nod, though I could sense his lingering questions.   The initiation ceremony was nothing short of grand. The cathedral loomed above us, its massive stained-glass windows casting colorful patterns on the floor as sunlight streamed in. The place was filled with knights and priests, all gathered for this momentous occasion. At the altar, the heads of the knightly orders awaited us, their presence imposing and solemn. We were asked if we followed any specific deity, and only Luke and Alistan stepped forward to name their gods. The rest of us stood in silence, our allegiances less defined by divine favor.   The atmosphere inside the cathedral was electric—both reverent and charged with anticipation. As we approached the altar, I felt the weight of centuries of tradition pressing down on us. This was no mere formality; it was a rite of passage, a moment that would mark us forever as knights of Keralon. And yet, even as I stood among my companions, I couldn’t shake the sense that my path remained different. I was a witch, a protector of the downtrodden, and no title or ceremony would ever change that.   As the initiation began, I steeled myself for what was to come, knowing that, title or no title, this was a new chapter. One that, despite everything, I was ready to face.   The ceremony, thankfully, was short and to the point. We each recited our vows, pledging to serve Keralon and its people. It felt like a formality on the surface, but the weight of those words hung heavy in the air. The priest, garbed in his ceremonial robes, knelt before each of us in turn. When he reached me, he leaned in and asked in a soft voice for us to whisper what we wished to achieve as knights.   My answer might seem simple, but there was depth to it: I wish to bring equality, prosperity, justice, and peace to the people of Keralon. The words weren’t grandiose, but they held the heart of everything I wanted. A desire for real change, for something better.   As I whispered my vow, a sudden, searing pain shot through my arm. I bit back a gasp, feeling the gods themselves brand me with their mark. It wasn’t just a sign of their approval, but a reminder of the weight of my promise. In return for that pain, they gifted me a small token of magic—a tool to help me fulfill my vows. I could feel it, humming just beneath my skin, a reminder of the power I now held, and the responsibility that came with it.   With the ceremony complete, we were led outside, greeted by the deafening cheers of the knights and priests who had gathered. But beyond them, outside the cathedral, was an even larger crowd—citizens, friends, and well-wishers. Among them, I spotted Zem and Saphira, their faces beaming with pride. I broke away from the others and headed toward them, enveloping them both in a hug.   I told them everything—the ceremony, my vow, and my decision to refuse the noble title. Zem, always the practical one, gave me a look that screamed disapproval. "Are you mad?" he asked, his voice incredulous. "Refusing such an offer?"   But Saphira, bless her, understood me better than anyone. Her eyes softened, and she nodded, her smile warm. "You’ve always walked your own path," she said, her voice full of quiet understanding. "And I wouldn’t expect anything less."   That’s why I keep them close. Where Zem sees only the missed opportunity, Saphira sees me—the real me.   The party was lively, more casual than I expected for something hosted in the wake of a royal ceremony. It was informal, but the energy was electric. As we entered, I spotted none other than Viviene, the last person I wanted to deal with at that moment. Before I could slip away unnoticed, I saw her approach Liliana, gifting her something of her own. "It’s only fair," Viviene said with a smile, "since you didn’t receive a gift during the ceremony."   Liliana seemed genuinely touched, but I didn’t stick around to hear more. I mingled, trying to blend in with the knights and other guests, talking and drinking, keeping the conversation light. It was strange to be in this space—celebrated, respected, yet always feeling like an outsider among them.   About an hour into the party, King Carolus arrived, dressed down and looking more like one of the knights than a monarch. His demeanor was shockingly relaxed, like he was just one of us. He moved through the crowd with ease, eventually seeking us out. When he found us, he told us, with a sly grin, that he had another gift in mind. But this one, he said, would require us to pass a test.   Curiosity—and suspicion—immediately set in. We followed the king outside, where a group of hooded nobles stood waiting, forming a semi-circle. The king explained that he wanted to see us fight, firsthand. If we succeeded, we’d earn a generous sum of gold to help manage our newly acquired lands. If we failed, though, we’d have to return the warhorses we had just been gifted.   My friends seemed eager, seeing it as a chance to prove themselves before the king. But something about this felt... off. Why the audience? Why the test in front of these hooded nobles? My mind raced. Was the king testing us to see if we were a threat? Was this some veiled assessment of our capabilities? I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than just a simple display of skill.   And I wasn't sure I liked where it was heading.   Seeing the excitement in the eyes of my companions, I went along with their decision to take on the challenge. King Carolus allowed us to choose our adversary—two golems stood waiting, each with its own strengths. After a brief discussion, I suggested we take on the golem with strong resistance to magic but vulnerable to physical attacks. I figured we could handle that with ease, and I was right.   The fight was over almost as quickly as it had begun. The golem, though towering and intimidating, was no match for our combined strength. Blades and arrows found their marks with precision, and even the little magic we did use seemed to have some effect. Before long, the golem crumbled to the ground, its massive form reduced to rubble.   The king’s applause was almost immediate, his face lighting up with genuine admiration. He congratulated us, his voice filled with pride as if he had known all along we would win. As he lavished praise on my companions, I took advantage of the distraction and quietly reached out with my mind. I scanned the thoughts of the hooded nobles surrounding us, seeking answers to my nagging doubts.   What I found left me uneasy. Their surface thoughts were fleeting, erratic, and wild—similar to what I’d expect from the fey, not from ordinary humans. These nobles, or whatever they were, masked their true nature behind the chaos in their minds. The king, however, was another matter. His mind was shielded, completely inaccessible to my probing. No ordinary human could block me out like that.   This only confirmed what I had feared. King Carolus wasn’t just allied with the fey; there was a high chance he was one of them. Or something worse.   I need to talk to Luke about this. If anyone would understand the gravity of what I just discovered, it’s him. We may have just uncovered a secret far more dangerous than any golem or noble conspiracy. Something is deeply wrong with the royal court, and I fear it’s only the beginning.    

Entry 29: The fate of Robert Talespinner
24th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Rachnar’s face was tight with worry as he pulled us aside, his voice low. “My son, Norgar, has gone missing from the party. My guards have searched everywhere, but there’s no sign of him.” His gaze swept over us, his eyes pleading. "You’ve helped us before. Will you help us again? Discreetly, of course."   Without hesitation, we agreed. How could we not? Rachnar handed over a small, intricate key, its metal cold in my palm. The moment I saw it, a spark of recognition flashed through me—it matched the set of keys we’d found in Robert Talespinner’s bag. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together.   I wasted no time, sending Fiachna out to scout the estate grounds, especially near the river. If the kidnappers tried to escape, that would be their most obvious route. Meanwhile, Luke, always quick on his feet, cast a locate object spell on the gemstone Norgar always wore. His eyes flashed with a surge of magic, and he nodded. “They’re close—north, and heading down.”   We hurried into the keep’s cellars, our footsteps echoing down the narrow stairwell. My heart hammered in my chest, a mix of fear and anticipation. We were on the right path—I was sure of it. But as I pushed open the first door, it exploded in a flash of fire and smoke. The blast sent us stumbling back, and I cursed under my breath. I really needed to stop rushing headfirst into danger.   Through the settling dust, we found ourselves in a dark, ominous chamber. Hooded figures stood in a circle, chanting, their voices a low, menacing hum. They were cultists, deep in a ritual to summon something far worse than we’d expected—a demon named Durzal. At the far end of the room, a towering golem loomed, its stone fists clenched, guarding the door beyond.   It was clear. We had just stumbled into something far more dangerous than a simple kidnapping.   Fortunately for us, the cultists weren’t the only ones with a flair for explosive magic. Luke, ever quick with his spells, sent a perfectly placed fireball into their midst, engulfing them in flames. Alistan and Liliana wasted no time either—blades flashing as they cut through the chaos with practiced precision. Meanwhile, the small but fierce fey I summoned darted between the enemies, wreaking havoc with a mischievous grin.   The cultists didn’t stand a chance. Within moments, the dark chanting had been silenced, and the ritual—whatever disastrous end it promised—was no more. But the victory was bittersweet. There were no other exits in the chamber, no secret passageways or clues to Norgar’s whereabouts. My pulse quickened with frustration. We were running out of time.   We hurried back upstairs, where Elsa greeted us with a raised brow and the much-needed comfort of healing magic. After a brief exchange, we pressed on, this time heading toward the northern side of the estate to search the outlying buildings.   The guard houses and surrounding structures seemed innocent enough—until we reached the stables. It was there, hidden beneath the straw and dust, that we found another entrance leading into the cellar. No sooner had we stepped inside than we were ambushed.   Three half-dragons, red-scaled and snarling, launched themselves at us with terrifying speed. Their fiery breath engulfed us in a wave of scorching heat, and pain exploded across my body as the flames licked at my skin. This battle was brutal. Each strike felt heavier, each spell more desperate, as we fought to keep ourselves from being overwhelmed.   But we didn't back down. After what felt like an eternity of struggle—dodging fiery blasts and returning blows—we managed to bring the creatures down. The aftermath left us all gasping for air, bruised, burned, and utterly exhausted. But we were alive. Barely.   We found ourselves in a tense debate, weighing the need for rest against the urgency of our mission. We were battered, burnt, and aching, but every moment spent recovering could mean Norgar slipping further from our grasp. I summoned Fiachna once again, sending her on a critical mission to fetch reinforcements. The room we were in had yielded a hidden passage—another clue in this twisted hunt. If things went south, at least Rachnar would know where we had gone.   With grim resolve, we pressed on.   The hidden passage led us deep beneath the estate, into ancient tunnels that seemed to stretch on forever. Soon, it became clear that we had wandered into the remnants of a long-lost civilization. Forgotten ruins lay beneath the city of Keralon, buried under centuries of progress. Dust and debris littered the ground, and the walls were etched with symbols no one had seen in eons. It was eerie, walking through a place lost to time, but we had no choice but to follow the trail.   As we ventured deeper, the oppressive silence was shattered by the sound of steel slicing through the air. Dadroz, at the front, crumpled to the ground—ambushed by an assassin cloaked in shadows, two imps flanking him with wicked grins. Everything happened so fast. By the time the shock wore off, both Gael and Dadroz were down, bleeding profusely from deep wounds.   There was no time for hesitation. I rushed forward, heart pounding, and threw myself into the chaos. My hands worked quickly, summoning healing magic to stem the blood flowing from their wounds. Meanwhile, Alistan, Liliana, and Luke sprang into action, striking down the imps and turning their wrath on the assassin.   It wasn’t an easy fight, but the others took care of him swiftly. By the time I had stabilized Gael and Dadroz, our enemies lay defeated at our feet. It was another close call—far too close. But we had made it through, bruised but unbroken. For now.   As I patched up Gael and Dadroz, my hands moving automatically through the familiar healing motions, Luke cast another Locate Object spell, focusing on Norgar’s gem. His face lit up with grim determination. "He’s close," he said, glancing down the darkened tunnel. "Not moving."   With fresh urgency, we pressed on, weaving our way through the ancient, abandoned tunnels and half-collapsed ruins. The air grew thick with the weight of ages, but our purpose drove us forward. At last, we stepped into a vast chamber, dimly lit by flickering torches. And there, waiting for us, was none other than Robert Talespinner—or at least, that’s who we thought he was.   He greeted us with a disarming smile, speaking in a tone far too friendly for the gravity of the situation. “I have no interest in fighting,” Robert said, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’ll return Norgar to you, unharmed. But on one condition: let me use him in a ritual, just to borrow a bit of his draconic essence. No harm will come to him, I promise.”   The others began to argue with him, discussing terms, but a cold chill crept up my spine. Something about the way Robert spoke, the way his words flowed too smoothly, felt wrong. My instincts screamed that this was a trap. As the others debated, I reached out with my mind, probing carefully. My mind brushed the surface of his mind, and what I found confirmed my worst fears: he was only stalling for time, distracting us from whatever real plan was in motion.   “Stop talking,” I warned the others in a low voice. “He’s lying. He’s playing for time.”   Robert’s friendly smile faded instantly. With a snarl, he launched into an attack, his hands crackling with dark magic. The room erupted into chaos as we clashed, steel and spells colliding in a fury. But something was off—he wasn’t fighting like the cunning, elusive bard we had faced before. His movements were erratic, his attacks wild and unfocused.   Amid the chaos, Luke shouted, “This isn’t him! I’m sure of it!”   His words rang true. This didn’t feel like Robert. I pulled my mind deeper into the illusionary Robert’s thoughts, peeling back layers of deception. There, beneath the surface, I found the truth: this was no bard. This was a doppelganger, a magical shapeshifter delaying us while the real Robert escaped—or worse, carried out his own dark plans elsewhere.   When I revealed that the Robert before us was a fake, his entire demeanor shifted. Gone was the smooth-talking bard, replaced by a snarling, vicious combatant. But whatever strength he had was no match for our combined force. In a matter of moments, the doppelganger was knocked out cold.   With the fake Robert dispatched, we pressed on, our hearts pounding. Time was slipping through our fingers, and Norgar’s fate still hung in the balance. After navigating the remaining tunnels, we finally found the chamber where he was being held. The room was dominated by an ominous statue of a dragon, casting long, jagged shadows over the unconscious form of Norgar, who lay slumped before it. His gem glowed with a strange, pulsating light, almost as if it were alive.   Six drakes, their scales gleaming in the dim light, circled the room. They didn’t waste time attacking. The fight erupted, but despite the initial chaos—and Alistan’s brief stumble—we cut them down swiftly. Their bodies hit the floor with dull thuds, and the chamber fell silent once more.   But the real challenge still lay ahead. Norgar remained unconscious, and there was something deeply wrong about the way the gem glowed. A sense of foreboding filled the air, like we were standing in the middle of a ritual that hadn’t yet finished. I hesitated to touch him, afraid of what moving him—or the gem—might do. The faint hum of magic echoed in the back of my mind, urging caution.   I reached out with my magic, and the truth slowly revealed itself. The gem wasn’t just glowing—it was acting as a conduit, a vessel for Norgar’s soul. His essence was being drained, siphoned away toward the statue in some twisted ritual. A knot of dread formed in my chest. If we didn’t stop this soon, we might lose him for good.   Luke, ever quick on his feet, didn’t waste a moment. With a few carefully chosen words, he dispelled the dark magic. The light from the gem flickered once, twice, then died, and the room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. The transfer of Norgar’s life essence had stopped.   I suggested we take Norgar back to the embassy, prioritizing his safety before indulging any further in the mysteries of the ruins. Some were clearly tempted to explore more, but Norgar’s well-being had to come first. As we trudged back through the debris, a familiar voice echoed from the shadows—Robert’s. Yet, something about it had changed; it was deeper, wearier, and carried a menace that chilled the air. He urged us to leave Norgar behind, his tone almost pleading. But when we refused, standing our ground, we saw something enormous stir in the distance.   Robert, once our ally, had already succumbed to the transformation. He was no longer the bard we had once known, but a dragon—massive, terrifying, and relentless. His form shifted in the dim light, scales rippling as he unfurled his enormous wings. I felt the ground tremble beneath his weight, and instinct screamed in my mind—this was not a fight we could win, not here, not now.   "The ruins will slow him down," I suggested, knowing the cramped spaces would hinder the dragon’s movement. Without hesitation, we bolted through the narrow tunnels, hearing the dragon's frustrated roars echo behind us. My instincts proved correct; despite his size and strength, Robert couldn’t pursue us swiftly through the ruins. We emerged into the cool night air, hearts pounding, as the distant roars grew faint.   Waiting at the entrance were the embassy guards, looking bewildered but relieved to see us. One sprinted off to inform Rachnar of our return, while the others ushered us to the chapel, where we could finally get some healing. It seemed like we could finally relax, but that was far from the truth.   As soon as we had settled, something felt wrong. I noticed the gem Norgar had carried—it had started glowing again. The faint shimmer quickly grew brighter, and just as Dadroz’s keen instincts picked up on tremors in the ground, I knew something was coming. Without a second thought, I grabbed the gem, its energy pulsating in my hand, and gave it to Fiachna.   "Take it to the palace, as fast as you can," I whispered urgently. If Robert was after the gem, he wouldn’t get it—not while we still had a chance to protect it. As Fiachna darted into the sky, I could only hope she would make it in time, and that we had bought ourselves a little more time against whatever Robert had become.   Moments later, the ground in the far corner of the chapel erupted in an explosion of stone and dust. From the gaping hole crawled a massive, draconic monstrosity—Robert, transformed and seething with fury. His roar echoed through the chapel, shaking the very walls. Before any of us could react, two more drakes joined the fray, their eyes burning with malice.   But Alistan, our steadfast knight, was already in motion. Without a word, he charged at the monstrous dragon, sword raised high, his rage and determination finally finding their outlet. The clash was brutal and swift. Alistan fought with such ferocity that even Robert, now a towering dragon, couldn’t keep up. With every strike, Alistan drove Robert back, delivering blow after devastating blow. The massive beast barely had time to retaliate before collapsing under the relentless onslaught.   But the battle was far from over. The two drakes, furious at the death of their leader, unleashed their vengeance upon us. Flames erupted from their jaws, washing over Alistan and me. I barely had time to register the heat before I was knocked unconscious, the world going black.   When I came to, I was being dragged back to my feet, the familiar hands of my allies pulling me from the edge of oblivion. The battle raged on, and though battered, we fought with everything we had. Within moments, the drakes lay defeated, their flames extinguished, leaving only the aftermath of the destruction they had wrought.   As the dust settled, the chapel was in ruins, the floor cracked and scorched, the air still thick with the scent of burnt stone. The guards finally burst through the doors, wide-eyed at the carnage. Behind them came a priest, who wasted no time in attending to our wounds. His magic was a welcome relief, the sharp pain ebbing away as he mended our broken bodies.   While we were being treated, Norgar stirred. Slowly, he blinked awake, his eyes dazed and confused. He groaned as he sat up, clearly disoriented. "The last thing I remember..." he said, his voice raspy, "I was in the gardens. I just wanted some fresh air."   We quickly filled him in on the events that had unfolded since his abduction, from Robert's betrayal to his transformation into a dragon. Norgar listened in disbelief, his hand resting on the gem that had caused so much trouble. When I summoned Fiachna back, I placed the gem in his hand. It pulsed faintly, no longer glowing with ominous energy but still brimming with the weight of all that had happened.   Norgar looked up at us, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you," he said, his voice steady. "I owe you all my life."   The ball had long since ended by the time we were escorted to the main dining hall, where Rachnar and several prominent knights, along with our escorts, were waiting for us. As we gathered, still sore and weary from the battle, we recounted the details of our harrowing search and rescue of Norgar. Rachnar listened carefully, his expression thoughtful as we explained everything—from Robert’s betrayal to the final battle in the chapel.   When we finished, Rachnar took a deep breath and explained the significance of the gems they carried. These gems, he revealed, were more than just family heirlooms. They were used to safeguard the souls of the people who carried them. If they were to fall in battle, the gem would hold their essence, so it could be returned home and reunited with their ancestors. This explained why Norgar’s gem was so tightly connected to his soul, and why the cultists had tried to use it as a conduit in their dark ritual.   Sir Donovan, standing at the head of the knights, congratulated us for our success in bringing Norgar back safely. He praised our efforts, acknowledging the immense service we had done for the city of Keralon. Then, with a knowing smile, he informed us that we could soon expect a summons from the throne itself, to be personally thanked by the king and queen. This, he said, would also likely mean that Luke, Liliana, and Gael would finally receive their knighthoods—even without completing the usual official quest.   After the knights departed, Rachnar promised to work closely with Dan to help the people of Ravensfield. His voice was earnest, and I could see a new resolve in him, strengthened by the ordeal. Elsa, feeling responsible for the breach in security that had allowed the cultists access to the embassy, offered to replace every lock, ensuring nothing like this would happen again.   As the night drew to a close, we exchanged our farewells. Exhausted, we each made our way back to our homes, eager for the comfort of our beds. After all the battles and intrigue, we had earned a long, peaceful rest—and perhaps, for now at least, a brief respite from the chaos.

Entry 28: The embassy ball
23rd of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Dear diary,   Alistan and Liliana returned with news that made me roll my eyes and reignited old frustrations. Their mother, Sofia Delaroost, had arrived in Keralon for the ball. I hadn't given her much thought since our rather unpleasant encounter in Hillfield, but the mere mention of her name was enough to stir up my dislike for nobles who carry themselves with such entitlement and disdain.   The stories Alistan and Liliana shared only served to reaffirm my former feelings about their mother. Upon arriving, Sofia wasted no time criticizing Alistan for everything under the sun—the reduced size of their estate in Keralon, his lack of a suitable partner, and his so-called lack of achievements. Never mind that Alistan is a respected knight of Keralon and is even being considered for a position among the Octagon, a prestigious honor that should have made any parent beam with pride. But to Sofia, these accomplishments paled in comparison to the pursuit of status, wealth, and influence. She couldn't see past her own shallow notions of success and privilege, and it stung to watch her dismiss all that Alistan had worked so hard for simply because it didn’t fit into her narrow view of the world.   The other bit of drama she brought was the revelation that everyone attending the ball was expected to bring a date. The mere suggestion caused a ripple of panic through our group—after all, none of us, save for Luke with his mostly unsuccessful pursuits, had given much thought to forming romantic relationships. Alistan, with all his dedication to his duties and the people of Keralon, certainly hadn’t spared time for courting, and Gael, Dadroz, and Liliana seemed equally at a loss. As for me, the very idea of seeking out a date for a ball felt absurd. I had no interest in such things; I’d always found the idea of romance to be more trouble than it was worth. My dear brother seemed to have inherited all the romanticism in the family, and even he had never managed to hold onto his fancies for long.   For a moment, we stood there in a collective state of dread, each of us grappling with how to handle this new complication. I could sense Alistan’s discomfort at the idea of disappointing his mother yet again, and though Liliana brushed it off outwardly, I could tell she was equally anxious about making a misstep in this unfamiliar world of high society. I simply resolved to ignore this foolish expectation. I was going to attend that ball as I was, without pretense and certainly without a forced date.   We had far bigger concerns than keeping up with the appearances expected by nobles like Sofia Delaroost. There was a looming threat against Keralon and its people, and every day brought new challenges that demanded our attention. I would attend this ball, if only because it was an opportunity to keep an eye on those with influence and power—and perhaps to gain some insight into the political tides that might help us in the battles ahead. But I was not about to waste my energy worrying about fitting into their petty games of courtship and pretense.   As the others continued to debate how to handle this unexpected expectation of bringing a date to the ball, an idea sparked in my mind. It was simple, perhaps a little mischievous, but it made sense. I considered offering to attend with either Gael, Dadroz, or Alistan, which would neatly solve the problem for at least two of us. Alistan was my primary pick, partly because it would drive his mother absolutely mad. The thought of Sofia Delaroost’s face if I walked into the ball on Alistan’s arm was tempting beyond words. Would that have been petty of me? Maybe just a little, but I have never been above a touch of mischief when it serves a good cause.   Still, a different idea began to form, and it was far more satisfying. I excused myself from the group, feigning the need for some air, and made my way through the bustling streets of Keralon. My destination was clear: I was heading to see Dan, the man who had quietly shouldered the burdens of Ravensfield’s people after the loss of our mayor. He had stepped up in ways that no one expected, and the village owed him a debt that could never truly be repaid. Who better to ask to escort me to the ball than Dan? Not only would it solve my immediate problem, but it would also give him a chance to mingle with the powerful and influential figures of Keralon and Velora Morenthene. This was an opportunity for him to make connections that could benefit the villagers in ways we could only dream of.   When I reached Dan, he looked surprised, but I could see the warmth in his eyes. He had always been modest, never seeking the spotlight or recognition, but this was his moment to step into a world far removed from the daily toil of leading our people through adversity. I extended my invitation, explaining that it was as much about gratitude as it was about the practicalities of navigating the ball. He hesitated at first, humbled by the offer, but eventually, with a bashful smile, he accepted. I could see a hint of pride mixed with nervous excitement—he had never imagined himself rubbing shoulders with nobles and dignitaries.   As evening approached, we all regrouped at the Colline estate. The others had gone all out, dressed in the finest silks and brocades they could afford, each trying to outshine the other in an unspoken competition of fashion and status. Alistan looked particularly dashing, clearly hoping to win at least some approval from his ever-critical mother. Liliana was practically glowing, dressed in an elegant gown borrowed from Elsa, which seemed to bewilder her more than please her. Gael and Dadroz had also cleaned up nicely, each wearing sharp suits that hid their usual ruggedness beneath a veneer of high society. Even Luke had managed to look respectable, though his roguish grin never quite left his face.   And then there was me, standing among them in my usual dark robes, unchanging, unbothered by the expectations of nobility and wealth. Midnight is who I am, and no gilded gown or glittering jewels would change that. I wore a simple silver brooch, borrowed from Elsa, to add a touch of formality, but beyond that, I was as I always am. Some might see it as a refusal to conform, but I saw it as a statement of resilience. I have faced dragons, armies, and the scorn of those who think they know better, and I have never faltered.   Tonight would be no different.   Dan stood beside me, dressed in a suit borrowed from one of Keralon’s tailors. He looked every bit the unlikely hero—nervous but determined, and ready to face whatever the night might bring. We would step into that ball together, a reminder that true strength comes not from titles or wealth, but from the courage to stand up for what you believe in. The others seemed pleasantly surprised by my choice of escort, and I caught a small, approving nod from Alistan. Even in this world of pomp and privilege, we would not be outshone.   The mood as we prepared to leave was electric, a blend of anticipation, trepidation, and the unspoken camaraderie that had seen us through so many trials. Each of us had made our choices about how to face this night, whether with friends, old flames, or in stoic solitude. Luke, still riding the high of his newfound partnership with Elsa, looked both eager and nervous. Gael, ever the lone wolf, wore his usual detached expression, seemingly indifferent to the splendor of the occasion. Edward, too, had opted to go alone, the consummate warrior always more comfortable on a battlefield than a ballroom floor. Alistan, on the other hand, had chosen to make a statement—arriving with Galiene, a half-elven priestess of Irminsul, whose calm grace contrasted starkly with the disdainful glances thrown by his mother. Sofia Delaroost’s disapproval radiated off her in waves, her distaste for anyone beneath her imagined station evident in every pinched look she cast in Galiene’s direction.   Liliana had left her date up to her mother. As we gathered outside the embassy, the ornate coach Elsa had arranged pulled up, and we began the slow shuffle of introductions and formalities before being announced. The embassy of Velora Morenthene was an imposing structure, a former fort that had been transformed into a lavish estate along the riverbank of the Lorerun River. Its high stone walls and narrow windows gave it the air of a place built for defense rather than diplomacy, and I couldn't help but appreciate the symbolism of a fort being repurposed for something more civil.   Then came the moment that turned the evening’s quiet excitement into simmering tension. As we waited in the receiving hall, Liliana’s date finally arrived. A tall, sharp-featured man with an air of arrogant confidence stepped forward, and I could see the spark of recognition ignite in Luke’s eyes even before his name was announced. Samuel Valeborn. Luke’s reaction was instantaneous and visceral. His cheerful demeanor vanished in an instant, replaced by a hard, bitter anger that twisted his features into something cold and unrecognizable. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, trembling with barely contained fury. I had seen my brother face down monsters, but none had stirred the kind of visceral rage that Samuel’s presence now evoked.   Samuel Valeborn was one of those privileged few who had made Luke’s life at the academy a living hell. A noble by birth and a bully by nature, he had wielded his status like a weapon, making sure that those who didn’t fit into his narrow worldview were made to suffer. Luke had been one of his favorite targets, and it was Samuel’s constant harassment that had played a significant role in my brother’s eventual expulsion. The injustice of it all still stung, a wound that had never truly healed. And now, by some cruel twist of fate or simple obliviousness on Liliana’s mother’s part, Samuel was here, standing before us with a smug smile and a sense of entitlement that set my blood boiling.   Liliana, blissfully unaware of the history between Luke and Samuel, greeted her date with polite indifference. She clearly had no interest in the man but was willing to play along for the sake of appeasing her mother. Samuel, for his part, was doing his best to charm her, though his attention kept drifting to the rest of us with a look of mild disdain, as though he were trying to piece together how such a motley crew had ended up in the company of nobility. When his gaze finally settled on Luke, there was a flicker of recognition, followed by a slow, mocking smile. I could see Luke’s knuckles whiten as he fought to keep his composure.   I stepped closer to my brother, giving him a subtle nudge of reassurance. “Let it go, Luke,” I whispered, knowing full well how hollow those words must have sounded. “Tonight isn’t about him. Don’t let him ruin it for you.” Luke nodded, but his eyes never left Samuel. I could tell that it took every ounce of willpower he had to keep from lashing out. This was not a battlefield where anger and action could solve problems; this was a different kind of fight, one that required restraint, composure, and the ability to swallow pride for the greater good.   As Elsa led us through the embassy, her confident stride set the tone, dispelling some of the lingering tension from Samuel's unwelcome presence. The ballroom was a display of Velora Morenthene’s culture, rich tapestries depicting ancient battles and serene forest scenes hung alongside banners of gleaming silver and emerald, the colors of Velora’s people.   We barely had time to take in the grand spectacle before Rachnar Ergoll, the new ambassador, swept towards us. He wasted no time in announcing us as the heroes who had made this embassy a reality, a proclamation that drew nods of approval and curiosity from the crowd. It was an unexpected moment of recognition, and while the applause was polite, the glances from the assembled dignitaries ranged from genuine admiration to thinly veiled suspicion. We were outsiders here, not of their world, and no amount of praise from the ambassador could fully bridge that gap. Still, it was a brief but welcome acknowledgement of everything we had sacrificed to get to this point.   But as we were about to disperse, seeking our own paths through the evening’s festivities, the doors swung open again with an almost theatrical flourish. A cold breeze rushed in, and with it, a light dusting of snow drifted through the air, swirling around the entrance like a whisper of winter. Vivienne, the lady of Whitewail, stepped inside, her presence as cold and imposing as the storm she commanded. Draped in an immaculate white gown that shimmered like frost under the ballroom lights, she moved with the fluid grace of a predator, her ice-blue eyes scanning the room with a hint of disdain. If there was anyone who could instantly sour the atmosphere, it was her. Vivienne was the last person we had hoped to see tonight, barring Sofia Delaroost herself. Her arrival was a reminder of the ever-present machinations of the high king's court and the dangerous politics that swirled around our every move. She wasted no time in making her presence known, approaching us with a cool smile that didn’t reach her eyes.   “The high king sends his regrets,” she began, her voice sharp and measured, “but he could not attend in person. I am here as his representative, to ensure that his interests are well observed.” The words were polite, but her tone was unmistakably condescending, as though we were little more than pawns in a game far beyond our understanding.   There was a brief exchange of pleasantries, if they could be called that, before Vivienne moved on, gliding through the room like a specter. We were all too relieved to see her go, though her presence lingered like a chill in the air, a constant reminder of the political web we were caught in.   With that, the group finally splintered, each of us gravitating towards our own priorities for the evening. Alistan, always eager to forge connections that could bolster his standing, made his way towards the cluster of Octagon knights, ingratiating himself with charm and wit.   Gael, on the other hand, sought out another circle of knights, his focus less on networking and more on gathering useful information. He had a knack for slipping into conversations unnoticed, picking up on the whispers that others might miss. I knew Gael well enough to understand that, while he often played the aloof loner, his sharp mind was always working, always observing.   Meanwhile, the simmering tension between Luke and Samuel reached its inevitable boiling point—not through violence, but through something far more public and humiliating: a dance-off. I watched with equal parts amusement and exasperation as my brother, spurred on by a mix of pride and spite, took to the dance floor. Samuel, clearly relishing the chance to one-up Luke in a setting where social grace held more sway than martial prowess, eagerly accepted the challenge. The two men exchanged jabs through footwork and flourishes, each trying to outshine the other with increasingly complex steps.   And then there was Dan. I had chosen him as my escort because of his unwavering dedication to the people of Ravensfield, but tonight he surprised me even more. Instead of mingling with the nobles or vying for attention among the knights, Dan led me around the ballroom with a quiet confidence, focusing his attention on the embassy’s servants and the dignitaries of Velora Morenthene. He moved through the crowd with purpose, striking up conversations with those who often went unnoticed—the attendants, the aides, and the lower-ranking officials who kept the wheels of power turning behind the scenes.   It was a refreshing change from the usual pomp and arrogance that permeated these gatherings. Dan’s humility and genuine curiosity won him far more favor than any empty flattery could have, and I could see the respect growing in the eyes of those he spoke with. For my part, I was content to let him lead, occasionally chiming in when the conversation turned to Ravensfield or our journey. I knew Dan’s motivations were simple but noble; he wanted to secure a future for our people, and tonight he was doing just that, one conversation at a time.   Velora’s people continued to surprise me with their generosity and practicality. Despite the conflicts of the past, they bore no grudge, and their willingness to offer a plot of land near their border to the people of Ravensfield was a testament to their desire for peace and cooperation. They understood the hardships our villagers had faced, and this gesture could mean a fresh start for so many of them—a chance to rebuild and thrive in a safe, supportive environment.   I knew the transition wouldn’t be easy. Velora’s culture, though not entirely alien, was still different enough to present challenges. There would be new customs to learn, languages to adapt to, and a long road ahead to build trust and understanding between our people. To help bridge that gap, I suggested that Zem and Saphira take on roles as liaisons between the communities. They were well-respected and level-headed, with enough experience to handle the complexities of such a delicate situation. Their presence would not only provide guidance to our people but also serve as a reminder to Velora’s folk that we were committed to this new alliance.   As I wandered through the bustling crowd, the whispers about the king’s absence grew louder, passing from one guest to the next like a ripple in a pond. It was unusual for him to miss such an important event, especially one meant to symbolize the unity between Keralon and Velora’s people. The news that he would not be attending set tongues wagging, and speculation ran wild. Some suggested urgent matters at court; others believed it was a strategic move, a subtle statement about the evolving politics between the realms. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder if our warning about Robert Talespinner had something to do with it.   The bard had slipped in almost unnoticed, weaving his way through the guests with the ease of someone used to blending into any crowd. From what I’d seen of him, he was playing his role perfectly—too perfectly, in fact. He appeared every bit the charming entertainer, strumming his lute and regaling a small circle of nobles and courtiers with his tales of distant lands and forgotten battles. His stories were captivating, his voice warm and melodic, but I knew better than to be lulled by his charms.   I caught sight of Alistan and Luke lingering near the doorway to the room where Robert performed, keeping a close eye on his every move. Alistan’s expression was carefully composed, but I could see the gears turning in his mind as he watched Robert work the crowd. He was calculating, always planning two steps ahead, trying to piece together what Robert’s true purpose here could be.   The ballroom fell silent as the queen made her entrance, her regal presence commanding the attention of every noble and dignitary present. Dressed in a deep blue gown that shimmered like starlight, she moved with an elegance that seemed almost otherworldly. Whispers rippled through the crowd as she ascended the dais, her gaze sweeping the room. Though her expression was composed, it was impossible to miss the sharp intelligence in her eyes. She addressed the gathering with a grace that belied the gravity of her words, explaining that the king, unfortunately, could not attend due to pressing matters of state. The vague mention of “important business” only fueled the murmurs that had been circulating, and I could sense that the room was filled with equal parts curiosity and trepidation about what might be unfolding behind the scenes.   After making her rounds, the queen turned her attention to our little group. To have the queen herself approach us was both an honor and a surprise. I could see the others stiffen slightly, the weight of her presence palpable. When she spoke, her voice was warm but measured, carrying that same keen edge of authority that defined her every move.   "I have heard much about you all," she began, her gaze flicking over each of us, lingering briefly on Alistan and Luke. "Your deeds have not gone unnoticed, and your efforts to aid Keralon in these troubled times have been invaluable. I want you to know that the crown recognizes your courage and dedication."   Her words were more than just empty praise; they were an acknowledgment that our actions had reached the highest levels of the kingdom. There was a sense of validation in her tone, as though our struggle, the sacrifices we had made, and the battles we had fought had all been worth something more than just survival.   The queen continued, expressing her appreciation for our intervention during the recent chaos and commending our efforts in keeping Keralon safe. It was clear that she had been briefed on the situation with the dragon construct and the threat it posed. The recognition felt both gratifying and bittersweet; while it was comforting to know we were making a difference, it was also a reminder of how close we had come to disaster. When she finished speaking, she gave a small, gracious nod before turning to leave. As she moved away to mingle with the other nobles, I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. It was not every day that the queen herself would take the time to personally thank a ragtag group of knights, mages, and villagers. It was a reminder that even in the darkest moments, our actions mattered.   The queen’s visit left a palpable energy in the air. The recognition from the highest seat in the land was more than just a morale boost—it was a signal that we were on the right path, that our fight was just, and that even in the grand halls of power, our voices could be heard.   As she departed to mingle with the other nobles, one of Rachnar’s guards approached us, saying lord Rachnar would like to have a word with us. He led us up the stairs to the second floor and into the spacious office of the new ambassador, who was pacing up and down.   Lord Rachnar’s office was a stark contrast to the opulent ballroom below. The space was richly appointed but practical, with dark wood paneling, shelves lined with books, and a large desk cluttered with scrolls, maps, and correspondence. The air was thick with the scent of ink and wax, a reminder of the serious business that took place here. The windows offered a view of the river, its waters gleaming under the moonlight, but Rachnar’s pacing betrayed a man whose mind was far from the serene scene outside.   As we entered, the ambassador stopped abruptly, turning to face us. His usual composed demeanor was strained, and I could see the tension in his furrowed brow and clenched fists. This was not the calm and collected diplomat we had seen earlier in the evening.   “Thank you for coming,” he said, his voice laced with urgency. “I apologize for pulling you away from the festivities, but something has come up that requires your immediate attention.”   To be continued….

Entry 27: A happy reunion
22nd of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Over breakfast, we mulled over the implications of the dragon construct's remains, and its lingering aura of malevolence. The danger it posed was clear: any unsuspecting traveler or explorer who stumbled upon it would be at risk of succumbing to the chaotic charm that had already caused so much harm. Our best course of action, we decided, was to bring this to the attention of the Mages at the Briar Ring. If anyone could neutralize such a threat, it would be them. The mages possessed the knowledge and resources to either dispel or contain the evil magic that clung to the wreckage like a curse.   But the dragon construct wasn’t our only concern. The enigma of Robert Talespinner weighed heavily on us. With the knowledge that he hadn’t been seen in days, and the unsettling possibility that he could be linked to the cult, we knew we had to investigate further. His room at Erna’s Wish was our next destination. If Robert had left any clues behind, we needed to find them.   As expected, getting into his room wasn’t straightforward. The door was trapped—evidence that Robert had secrets worth protecting. Thankfully, Dadroz’s nimble fingers made quick work of the trap, and we entered the room, our hopes high.   The initial sweep, however, left us disappointed. The room was sparse, devoid of any incriminating evidence or personal items that might connect Robert to the cult. It was almost as if he had expected someone to come searching and had taken precautions to cover his tracks. The only item of interest was a sending stone, a powerful tool for communication over great distances. Alistan pocketed it, but we agreed not to use it—at least not yet. Without knowing who was on the other end, activating it could alert our enemies or lead us into a trap.   It was the contents of his backpack that yielded the most curious find of the morning: a keychain with ten identical keys. We stared at it, each of us trying to make sense of it. What could require ten identical keys? The possibilities were endless, and each one more concerning than the last.   Then, an idea struck me. “Maybe these keys aren’t meant for one person,” I suggested. “What if he’s supposed to distribute them? It could be that these keys open a hideout or a vault, something important to the cult. And if that’s the case, we might have just stumbled upon something crucial.”   We left a message for Robert with Feyris, carefully worded to express our concern for his well-being and our eagerness to hear from him as soon as possible. Despite the suspicion swirling around him, there was still a part of me that hoped this was all a misunderstanding, that Robert would return and offer some benign explanation for the oddities we’d uncovered. But I wasn’t holding my breath.   Next on our agenda was the dragon construct. It needed to be dealt with, and the mages at the Briar Ring were the only ones capable of handling such a dark and dangerous artifact. The others agreed to take the news to them, and I bid them farewell, choosing instead to focus on something closer to my heart: the survivors from Ravensfield. These were my people, my responsibility, and I needed to see for myself how they were faring.   When I arrived at the temporary camp that had been set up for the villagers, I was pleasantly surprised. The people of Keralon had truly stepped up, offering food, supplies, and medical aid to those who had lost everything. It was a small comfort in the midst of our many losses, but a comfort nonetheless. The sight of the villagers being cared for lifted a weight from my shoulders that I hadn’t realized I was carrying.   Dan, it seemed, had been reluctantly thrust into the role of village leader after the tragic death of our mayor. His discomfort with the position was palpable, but he was managing admirably. I made sure to give him the addresses for Alistan’s estate and Erna’s Wish, ensuring he could contact us if the need arose. I wanted him to know that, even though I couldn’t be with them all the time, they weren’t forgotten.   I spent the rest of the day moving through the camp, checking in on each of the villagers, offering words of comfort where I could, and doing my best to reassure them that Ravensfield would rise again. It was exhausting, but necessary. These people had been through so much, and it was important they knew they weren’t alone in this. That their home might have been lost, but their community was still strong.   As the day waned, I made my way back to Erna’s Wish, feeling a little more at peace. The others would have made their report to the mages by now, and I was eager to hear what had come of it. The road ahead was still uncertain, but at least for now, I could take solace in knowing that the people of Ravensfield were safe and cared for. And that, no matter what else happened, I would do everything in my power to keep it that way.   The mages assured us that knights would be dispatched to investigate the dragon construct, securing the area and ensuring the safety of any unfortunate souls who might stumble across it. With that heavy burden off our shoulders, we turned our attention to the next pressing matter: what to wear to the upcoming ball.   I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the very mention of shopping for fancy clothing. Balls, dresses, and noble etiquette were far from my priorities. I already knew what I was going to wear—exactly what I always wore. My tried-and-true attire had seen me through battles, negotiations, and more than a few tight spots. I saw no reason to change it for a night of forced politeness and shallow conversations.   Liliana, however, was at a complete loss. Having spent most of her life in the Feywild, she had little idea how to dress as a noble. Apparently, fashion wasn’t a priority in a realm where magic and nature held sway. So, she suggested we ask Elsa for advice.   At the mere mention of Elsa’s name, I noticed a familiar change in my brother. His eyes lit up, and his posture straightened, as if an invisible string had pulled him upright. He quickly brushed off his robes, ran a hand through his hair, and even checked his reflection in a nearby window. It was the same routine I’d seen countless times before, whenever a pretty girl entered the picture. Luke might be a powerful wizard, but in moments like these, he was just my awkward brother, trying to impress a girl.   I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. For all our adventures and the dangers we faced, some things never changed. And honestly, it was nice to see a bit of normalcy in the midst of the chaos that had become our lives. Watching him get flustered over Elsa was a welcome distraction from the weighty matters we had been dealing with.   As we made our way to find Elsa, I decided not to tease Luke about his obvious crush. There would be plenty of time for that later. For now, I was content to enjoy the small moments of levity that reminded me we were still human, even in the face of all the darkness we were up against.   As we neared the Colline estate, the sight of a massive warhorse standing outside caught our attention. The steam rising from its flanks indicated that its rider had only recently arrived. I couldn’t help but wonder if Edward had returned to Keralon for the ball. The thought was intriguing—he was always a lively presence, and it would be good to see him again.   The servant who opened the door confirmed our suspicions. After introducing ourselves, we were led inside, where Edward greeted us with his signature wide grin. He confirmed that he had indeed returned for the ball, and after some time spent catching up, he excused himself to freshen up, promising to join us shortly for our shopping excursion.   As we waited, Elsa arrived. The moment she entered the room, I noticed Alistan and Luke’s faces light up with grins that spread from ear to ear. It was amusing, really—some things truly never change. Elsa seemed genuinely surprised to see us but delighted all the same. When she learned of our intention to go shopping for the ball, she regrettably informed us that she wouldn’t be able to join us due to her busy schedule at court.   However, she was kind enough to offer Liliana and me access to her wardrobe and jewelry. While I appreciated the gesture, the idea of squeezing into one of her dresses was laughable. Elsa was slim and delicate, and I—well, I had a bit more volume than she did, and I wasn’t ashamed of it. I preferred my attire practical and comfortable, and I didn’t see how one of her gowns would suit me in any way.   Still, I took the opportunity to pick out a simple brooch for my cloak. It was a modest piece, elegant in its simplicity, and it would add just the right touch to my outfit without being too flashy. I promised Elsa I’d return it after the ball, and she smiled, saying she knew it was in good hands.   When Elsa turned to Gael, Alistan, and Luke, she posed a question that left two of them momentarily stunned: would any of them like to be her escort to the ball? Gael, ever the reserved one, quickly excused himself, leaving Alistan and Luke to pick their jaws up from the ground. The moment hung in the air, and then, with a graceful bow, Alistan stepped back, letting Luke eagerly accept the honor.   A smile played across Elsa’s lips, a knowing and slightly mischievous one. She then suggested that we all go to the ball together and promised to arrange a large carriage to take us there. It was a wonderful idea—after all, we hadn’t had the chance to spend an evening together like this in quite some time. The thought of all of us arriving as a group, enjoying the night as friends, made the idea of the ball far more appealing.   With that settled, Elsa excused herself, needing to return to her duties at court. Edward then took on the role of guide and led us out for our shopping expedition. I’ll spare you the details of that particular venture—needless to say, the process was as dull as I expected. But I tolerated it, knowing that the night ahead would be worth the tedium.   The rest of the evening was a balm after the stress of recent events. We gathered around a table laden with delicious food and more wine than was probably wise. Stories flowed freely, tales of our past adventures mixed with exaggerated anecdotes, each of us trying to outdo the other. Laughter echoed through the room, the kind that comes from deep in the belly, and for a few hours, the weight of the world lifted from our shoulders.   There was something comforting about being with these people, my friends, my family in a way. Despite the trials and the battles, the uncertainties that loomed on the horizon, moments like this reminded me of why we fought, why we risked everything. It wasn’t just for duty or honor—it was for each other, for the bonds we shared, for the memories we had yet to make.   As the night wore on and the wine flowed, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment, fleeting though it might be. Tomorrow, the world would intrude once more, with all its dangers and decisions. But tonight, at least, we had this. And for now, that was enough.

Entry 26: There will be blood!
21st of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Dear Diary,   It’s been a few days since I’ve found the time to write. We’ve been on the road ever since the battle at Ravensfield, and the memories of that night still weigh heavily on my heart.   When we fled the burning village, we stood at the edge of the forest, watching the flames consume the houses, my home. A mixture of sadness and anger filled my mind as I watched everything I had built over the last five years turn to ash. This place was as much home to me as Tarn had ever been. But the heart of Ravensfield lies with its people, and they have escaped. That knowledge offers some comfort, though it does little to ease the pain.   But most of all, what I felt was anger. Anger at the injustice, at the sheer arrogance of a cult that sacrifices innocent people for their twisted, deluded agenda. The flames of Ravensfield might have burned away my home, but they’ve ignited a fire within me that won’t be easily extinguished. I swear on the ancient spirits that I will have my revenge. Midnight will come for them, and when it does, they will know the true meaning of fear!   There was still the looming threat of the army, and we weren’t sure how to deal with it. If they decided to pursue the villagers, we would have to stop or delay them. But in our current state, battered and drained from the battle, I doubted we could take on an entire army by ourselves. I sent Fiachna to scout their movements, hoping for some sign of what they planned next. When she returned, her news brought a mix of relief and concern—they were lingering on the other side of the village, waiting for the flames to die down.   Reynis was another problem. He had fled into the forest ahead of us, and we hadn’t seen him since. The question was, should we go after him? At this moment, he posed little danger to anyone but the remnants of the cult’s army. If we decided to take him to Keralon, it would be a drain on our resources, and searching for him would cost us precious time.   After weighing our options, we decided to follow the villagers and deal with the army only if it became necessary. Fiachna stayed behind to keep watch, with orders to inform me of any movements or changes in their plans. When we finally made camp for the evening, she returned with news that eased my mind: the army had entered Ravensfield after the flames had died down, but instead of pursuing us, they had set up camp there.   It seemed they had no intention of following us. For now, at least, we had escaped their grasp.   That night, as we camped under the stars, our uneasy rest was interrupted by a shadow passing overhead—a massive draconic shape, flying back and forth from north to south. The sight of it sent chills down our spines. Had our enemies brought in a new dragon to hunt us down? The thought weighed heavily on all our minds as we pressed on towards Keralon the next day.   By noon, we reached the end of the caravan of refugees. Their faces lit up at the sight of us, relief mixed with sadness as we confirmed the loss of Ravensfield. But I could see the same determination in their eyes that burned in my own. These people were survivors. Homes could be rebuilt, and we would rebuild them, stronger than before.   A few hours later, we caught up with Zem and Saphira. I hugged them both tightly, grateful to see my friends alive and well. After we shared our harrowing tale, Saphira had some unsettling news of her own. That morning, she had discovered strange tracks in the forest—trees pushed down, scorched earth, as if some enormous creature had landed in the night and taken off again before dawn. The description sent a shiver through me. Could it be the dragon we had seen flying overhead?   The next few days passed in a tense silence as we trudged alongside the caravan of refugees, all eyes scanning the skies and the dense forest surrounding us. The dragon that had been trailing us became an ever-present shadow, a silent threat looming over our every step. On the first night, Gael and Dadroz, ever the stealthy scouts, slipped into the forest to gather more information about this mysterious creature.   When they returned, their news was disturbing. The dragon wasn’t a living creature, but a construct—a monstrous machine clad in heavy metal plating, with fire seeping ominously between the cracks. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural light as it watched the camp for hours, then silently departed to the north. The implications were troubling.   The next day, we spent hours debating what this mechanical dragon could mean. The obvious conclusion was that it had been sent by the cult, but if that was the case, why hadn’t it been used during the attack on Ravensfield? And why wasn’t it attacking us now? The questions circled in our minds, gnawing at us. I suggested that it might have been sent by someone else, perhaps an ancient enemy of Amarra’s—someone who had their own designs on us.   Despite all our discussions, we found no clear answers. The real question became whether we should confront it. Alistan, Liliana, and Luke were eager to face the dragon head-on, hoping to eliminate the threat before it could strike. Gael, Dadroz, and I were more cautious, arguing that it was best to avoid a direct confrontation unless we knew more. After much debate, we decided to leave it be. It was only observing, after all, and if it was just a construct, we wouldn’t gain any useful information by attacking it.   Looking back, I can see that this was a mistake. We had underestimated the danger, and soon enough, we would pay the price for my caution.   Today was supposed to mark the end of our flight from Ravensfield to Keralon. By nightfall, we would reach the city’s gates. Confident that we were within reach of safety, we stopped to rest and eat at noon, allowing ourselves a moment to breathe. But that moment of respite was shattered in an instant.   All at once, chaos erupted. People began attacking each other, their eyes glazed over as if overcome by some dark, powerful charm. Luke, my brother, suddenly turned on Zem, his hands tightening around his throat, while Dadroz, our sly and nimble rogue, plunged his blade toward Gael without hesitation. Panic gripped me as I tried to use my magic to locate the source of this madness, casting detect thoughts in a desperate bid to uncover the culprit—but there was nothing. Just the noise of terror and confusion, the clashing of weapons and cries of pain.   And then, the true nightmare began.   With a deafening roar, the dragon construct descended upon us, its massive form tearing through the trees like they were nothing. The beast unleashed a torrent of fiery breath that swept across the camp, killing several refugees in an instant and engulfing Alistan and Liliana in its infernal blaze.   But we were not so easily broken.   We fought back with everything we had. Arrows flew through the air, striking the dragon’s metal hide. Spells crackled, lighting up the sky as we poured our fury into every attack. The dragon construct, though powerful, began to falter under our relentless assault. It tried to flee, its wings beating furiously as it sought refuge in the skies. But we weren’t about to let it escape.   A volley of well-aimed arrows, followed by a blast of magic, struck the creature in its exposed joints, and with a final, echoing roar, the lifeless husk of the dragon plummeted to the earth. It crashed into the forest a short distance away, sending up a plume of smoke and debris as the trees splintered beneath its weight.   While some of the group hurried toward the crash site, I remained behind, my heart heavy with the responsibility of tending to the refugees. The devastation around us was overwhelming. Some of the injured were beyond saving, including our beloved mayor, whose loss was a sharp blow to the already shaken community. We did what we could for the survivors, but for many, all we could offer was a quiet, somber burial by the side of the road. I spoke a few words for the fallen, trying to honor their memory in the midst of our grief.   When the others returned from the crash site, their faces were grim, and the news they brought was unsettling. The dragon construct was indeed dead, but its remains were far from harmless. The metal plating that had armored the beast came from hell itself, infused with dark, evil magic that still lingered even after the construct’s destruction. Worse, the chaotic charm effect that had driven our comrades to madness continued to emanate from the wreckage, making the area dangerous for anyone who ventured too close. This was no ordinary battle aftermath; we would need to inform the knights of Keralon so they could deal with this twisted relic. If left unchecked, it could bring harm to innocent people who might stumble upon it.   By the time we finally reached Keralon, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the city gates were closed for the night. Alistan, ever the diplomat, managed to convince the guards to open the gates and allow the caravan of refugees inside. The sergeant on duty questioned us about the events that had led to our late arrival, and we recounted the harrowing journey and the destruction of Ravensfield.   After ensuring that the refugees were safely within the city walls, Alistan and I made our way to the Long Table, the meeting place of the hedge knights. We needed to inform them of everything that had happened—the attack on Ravensfield, the cursed dragon construct, and the letters we had sent. We needed their support and resources now more than ever. Meanwhile, the rest of our group took the prisoners to the Briar Ring, where they would be secured until they could be properly questioned.   We were fortunate to secure an audience with the leader of our circle, a rare opportunity given the gravity of our situation. As we explained the events that had unfolded—the destruction of Ravensfield, the cursed dragon construct, and the looming threat of the cult—he listened intently, his expression growing more severe with each passing detail. When we mentioned the knights who were supposed to assist us, he frowned and confirmed that three had indeed been dispatched to aid us. The fact that we had not encountered them suggested that something had gone terribly wrong.   Recognizing the urgency of our report, he assured us that he would escalate the matter directly to the king. These were not merely local concerns but threats that could imperil the entire realm. The acknowledgment brought a small measure of relief, but it also underscored the enormity of the challenge before us.   Before leaving, we inquired about Robert Talespinner, the enigmatic bard who had traveled with us. As a regular at the inn, we had expected him to resurface by now. However, to our dismay, we learned that he hadn’t been seen in days. His sudden disappearance only deepened the mystery surrounding him. Could he truly be the cult’s champion, or was there more at play here than we realized?   With heavy hearts, we regrouped at Erna’s Wish, a familiar inn that offered a brief respite from the turmoil. The weight of the day’s revelations sat heavily upon us, but the night promised at least a few hours of rest. Or so I thought.   When I entered my room, I was greeted by an unexpected surprise. There, resting innocently on my pillow, was a letter. My pulse quickened as I picked it up and carefully broke the seal. Inside was an invitation—one that could either be a boon or a trap. It was to a ball celebrating the opening of the new embassy of Velora Morenthene’s people.   I couldn’t help but wonder, what could go wrong?   21st of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 25: Ravensfield burns
17th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Dear diary,   Throughout the day and into the night, the villagers evacuated Ravensfield. With our defenses meticulously set up, we managed to get a good night’s rest, knowing the battle ahead would test our limits. Not trusting the twisted sense of honor of General Rayl, we posted guards, but the night passed without incident.   In the morning, we took our positions on and around the large barn, the heart of our web of traps, like spiders awaiting their prey. I sent Fiachna out to scout ahead, knowing his sharp eyes would alert us to the army's approach. The hours dragged on, filled with the nervous pacing of my companions, until Fiachna finally returned. The army was near—an ominous horde of undead kobolds, draconic constructs, drakes, and all manner of foul spawn.   They halted a short distance from the village, a palpable tension hanging in the air. Then, from the clouds, General Rayl descended on his wyvern, a menacing silhouette against the morning sky. He landed with an arrogant grace, his eyes scanning the village before settling on us.   "I'm impressed you stayed to face me and my army," he called out, his voice carrying over the tense silence. "I will grant you the opportunity to fight me first, alone."   For a moment, it seemed like an honorable offer—a chance to decide the fate of Ravensfield in a single, decisive battle. But Rayl’s twisted smirk shattered that illusion. “Even if you defeat me,” he continued, “my army will attack anyway.”   Anger surged through me. Rayl’s words confirmed what I already knew: there was no honor in him, only cruelty and deceit. He had sent monsters to kill villagers before even knowing we were here. He intended to destroy Ravensfield regardless of the outcome of our fight.   Seeing no point in furthering talks, Gael fired the first shot. I’m not one for describing long, elaborate fights, so I’ll sum it up like this: the battle went smoother than expected. Rayl, overconfident in his ability to defeat some new, upcoming knights, underestimated the resilience of the De la Roost twins, the excellent archery of Gael, Dadroz, and Feyris, and the power of Luke’s and my spells.   Rayl’s initial smirk of arrogance quickly turned to frustration as he realized he had misjudged us. Liliana and Alistan, the De la Roost twins, fought with a synchronized precision that left Rayl struggling to keep up. Gael’s arrows found their mark with deadly accuracy, each shot weakening Rayl’s defenses. Dadroz and Feyris moved with fluid grace, their attacks relentless and precise. Luke’s spells rained down, a flurry of arcane energy that left Rayl’s wyvern reeling.   In the end, it was a coordinated effort that brought Rayl down. Gael’s arrows weakened his wyvern, and a powerful fireblast from Luke delivered the final blow, sending Ray crashing to the ground. I moved in to stabilize him, my magic knitting his wounds just enough to keep him alive. We tied him up and moved him to the barn, a valuable prisoner for the knights of Keralon to interrogate.   With Rayl down, the blast of a horn echoed from the sky, and the enemy army began their march on Ravensfield. It is with some pride that I can say my idea to turn Ravensfield into a deathtrap worked wonderfully. As they advanced, they started torching houses, but with all the flammable material we had spread, and linked buildings together, they were caught off guard by how fast the fire spread. Combined with some thorny spells to further damage and hamper their advance, the army soon retreated, after taking substantial casualties without a single blow being exchanged.   There was a fleeting moment of triumph as the army turned around, but it was quickly crushed as we spotted a small group of drakes sneaking between the buildings from the south. The fires closed in around us, and we faced these new adversaries, realizing this could end badly. The drakes were fast and fierce, their scales glinting ominously in the firelight.   The battle was intense. The drakes moved with predatory grace, their claws slashing and tails whipping through the air. Our spells and arrows flew, but the creatures were relentless. Amid the chaos, Luke bore the brunt of the drakes’ fury. Despite his plethora of fate-twisting magic, he took the heaviest blows and was knocked out, his body crumpling to the ground.   As the fires closed in and we were nearly cut off, I knew we had to act quickly. Summoning every ounce of my willpower, I forced my mind onto their leader. The drake’s eyes glazed over, and with a command, I sent him flying to the east.   Alistan summoned Thorin back and pulled me onto the horse's back, allowing us to make a daring escape through the flames. Gael, determined and swift, hoisted Luke onto his feet and retreated with him through the burning barn. The rest of our group had already fled, seeking safety beyond the inferno. In our rush, none of us thought to drag the captured Rayl along, and I fear he suffered a terrible fate amidst the chaos.   And here we stand now, watching my steading go up in flames. The once vibrant Ravensfield is now a roaring inferno, the fire devouring everything we had built. It weighs heavy on my heart, each crackling ember a reminder of what we’ve lost. Yet, amid the devastation, a spark of hope remains. I am confident that Ravensfield will be rebuilt, stronger and more resilient than before.   As we gather, soot-streaked and weary, we draw strength from one another. We have faced the worst and emerged on the other side. Ravensfield will rise from the ashes, just as we have. And while the path ahead is uncertain, our resolve is unwavering. Together, we will rebuild. Together, we will continue to fight.   17th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 24: Burn your village
16th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Dear diary,   The trip back from the temple went smoothly, and we decided to drop the two prisoners off with Zem and Saphira. They could keep guard over them while we dealt with Reynis for the night. Tying him up and blindfolding him hadn’t worked, so we brought some chains, hoping they'd be stronger.   Unsurprisingly, they weren’t. In his drake form, Reynis snapped the chains like they were paper. But we were prepared this time, and the fight was over before he could unleash his full strength. Alistan landed the final blow, knocking him out and forcing him back into his true form.   We headed back to my cabin at the edge of Ravensfield. By the time we arrived, the two prisoners had woken up. Liliana immediately began her interrogation, but they kept their lips sealed. Unfortunately for them, I have more tricks up my sleeve than just curses. As Liliana bombarded them with questions they refused to answer, I subtly started scanning the leader’s mind, searching for the things he wasn’t saying.   As I relayed the information that Vezzir’s goal was to create dragons, the leader realized I was reading his mind. He decided talking might be the better option after all. Like so many fanatics, his cult was deluded, convinced that their twisted mission to turn all people into dragons justified their heinous acts. They even wondered why we opposed them, believing that sacrificing innocent people was a small price to pay. In the end, they were just like any other oppressor, out to rule the world by force.   We pressed for more details about the cult’s headquarters in Keralon and Vezzir’s location, but got nowhere. However, when Luke asked about the champion from Arcarost, the leader panicked and bit off his own tongue to stop himself from speaking. The other cultist, clearly in shock from what had happened, caught our attention. Desperate and terrified, he offered to give us the information we needed in exchange for his freedom. "Nice try," Gael muttered, tightening his grip on his weapon. "But we’re not letting you go."   Exhausted and knowing my magic was depleted for the day, we decided to leave it for now. In the morning, I could probe his mind again and get the information we needed. As the night deepened, we made our preparations for another watchful vigil.   Before heading off to bed for some well-deserved rest, Luke went to find Dan, hoping his trade consortium had a scroll of polymorph. Unfortunately, they didn't have one, but Dan did offer another possibility. Close to the village, in the Lorewood, there is a magic circle where you can perform a ritual to summon a hag. Dealing with her could provide the aid we need, but at a steep price. Needless to say, I gave a stern no to any plan involving a hag, though I did agree with Luke to check out the place and see if it was connected to Neverhold.   The next morning, I returned to the cultist and probed his mind for information about the champion. To our shock, the vision pointed to none other than our travel companion, Robert Talespinner! Could he be their champion? He certainly loves telling stories about dragons. We didn’t have much time to contemplate this revelation, as sounds of panic erupted from the streets outside. Rushing out, we saw people fleeing from the center of Ravensfield, crying out about monsters attacking!   Leaving the two cultists in the care of Zem and Saphira, we sprinted to the village center. A wave of undead kobolds and towering dragonflesh golems swarmed between the buildings, attacking anyone in sight. The chaos was overwhelming, but we fought with everything we had.   Despite their numbers and resilience, we cut down the attackers one by one. The air was filled with the clash of steel, the crackle of magic, and the cries of the wounded. But we held our ground, determined to protect Ravensfield. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last of the monsters fell. The village center was a battlefield, but we had prevailed.   Breathing heavily, we took a moment to assess the damage and check on the villagers. Many were injured, and some buildings had been damaged, but the immediate threat was gone. I looked at my companions, their faces smeared with sweat and dirt but their eyes burning with resolve. We had faced another attack and come out victorious, but the fight against the cult was far from over.   As the rest of our group rushed to the western edge of the village to see where the monsters had come from, I moved around the square to aid those who had been wounded. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and blood, and the cries of the injured filled the air. I worked quickly, using what healing magic I had left and bandaging wounds as best I could. The villagers’ gratitude was a small comfort amidst the chaos.   Meanwhile, at the western edge, four minor dragons and their riders swooped down from the sky, ambushing my companions. This fight proved to be much more of a challenge. The dragons were agile, swooping in and out, their riders launching attacks with deadly precision.   Bit by bit, we managed to take down the riders, forcing the dragons to engage us on the ground. Their roars filled the air, but we stood our ground, fighting with everything we had.   When only two dragons remained, a call came from the sky. A massive wyvern hovered a little distance away, its rider a dragonborn in heavy armor. For a moment, the battlefield fell silent as everyone turned to face this new threat. The wyvern’s wings beat slowly, its eyes watching us with a predatory gaze. The dragonborn rider, his armor glinting in the dim light, surveyed us with a calm, calculating expression.   We expected him to swoop down and finish what his lackeys had started, but he didn’t attack. Instead, he approached, and spoke in a voice that was both resonant and cold. "Are you the knights from Keralon who destroyed our temple at Hollow Hill?" he asked.   We exchanged glances, wary but resolute. "Yes," Gael replied, stepping forward. "We are."   The dragonborn nodded, as if he had expected this answer. "You have disrupted our plans and slain many of my kin. For that, I offer you a choice." His eyes gleamed with a twisted sense of honor.   The dragonborn gave us an ultimatum that twisted my stomach with rage. “Evacuate the village and face me and my army alone,” he declared, his voice booming across the trembling village. “In that case, I will spare the villagers. But if you flee with them, I will hunt everyone down and kill them all.” His cold eyes scanned our faces, making sure his threat hit home. “In 24 hours, I will return with my army and burn Ravensfield to the ground.”   How dare he call himself honorable! My blood boiled as I thought of the carnage his monsters had already caused. They had stormed the village, killing innocent people even before knowing we were here! His intention to destroy Ravensfield—my home, my steading—had nothing to do with honor, only petty vengeance.   With his ultimatum given, the dragonborn ascended into the sky on his wyvern, his two remaining dragons trailing behind. Their shadows cast a grim pall over the village, a promise of the destruction to come.   With no choice but to evacuate and face the dragonborn’s wrath tomorrow, I gathered Dan and the village mayor. I laid out the grim reality before them, convincing them that while Ravensfield could be rebuilt, lives lost were irreplaceable. They agreed, and soon, the villagers began packing up, making their way towards Keralon. The exodus was bittersweet, but necessary.   Reynis, our cursed ally, vowed to stay with us. “You’ve helped me so much,” he said, determination burning in his eyes. “It’s time I return the favor and get some payback on the cult that did this to me.” We gratefully accepted his offer. His strength would be crucial in the fight ahead.   The rest of the day was a whirlwind of preparation. If the dragonborn wanted to burn Ravensfield, he’d do it on my terms. We turned the village into a deathtrap, rigging it with flammable materials and hidden snares. Every street, every alley became a potential ambush point. If Ravensfield was going to burn, it would burn to our benefit.   16th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 23: The Hollow Hill Horror
15th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Dear diary,   The next morning, we set off into the forest towards Hollow Hill. Raynis agreed to come with us, though he was visibly apprehensive about revisiting the horrors inflicted on him in the ruins. He insisted on staying outside, and we respected his wish.   Finding Hollow Hill itself was easy, but there was no obvious entrance to the temple below. After a quick survey of the ruins, we discovered a broken statue of an elf in armor and a large circular well that descended into darkness. Liliana, with her night vision, peered into the well and informed us there were staircases at the bottom, leading away into a tunnel.   We quickly tied some ropes together and began our descent into the darkness. Surprisingly, despite being the least athletic of the bunch, Luke and I managed the climb without too much trouble, though my hands were clammy with anxiety at the thought of falling. Dadroz, our agile skulker, and Alistan, our knight in shiny armor, had a more challenging time navigating the rope.   The descent down the staircase was brief, ending in a circular chamber with four doors. Dadroz, ever the skilled rogue, quickly disarmed the trap on one of the doors, but his lockpicking efforts fell short. However, the second door yielded easily, revealing what had once been an embalming room. Now, it served as a ritual chamber for the cultists.   Inside, a lone cultist glared at us, cursing before unleashing a fireball that engulfed the entire group. Fortunately, the blast wasn’t as powerful as those my brother Luke had wielded in the past. Still, it left us momentarily stunned. Then the cultist released his stone guardian, a hulking golem ready to smash us to pieces.   Liliana, ever fearless, charged at the golem, clashing her sword against its stone limbs. The rest of us focused on the cultist, who hurled more spells our way. Suddenly, one of the other doors in the entry hall burst open, and more cultists poured out, their eyes alight with malevolent intent.   Gael and I sprang into action, casting roots and curses to slow their advance. The tendrils of magic wrapped around the cultists' feet, hindering their movements and buying us precious time. Alistan, with a determined look, made his way through the chaos and delivered a knockout blow to the lead cultist.   With the fight behind us, we turned our attention to the ritual chamber, where ancient runes etched in Draconic adorned the altar. Luke, with his affinity for such things, examined them closely. His face grew serious as he deciphered the text, explaining that the altar was designed to transform someone into a draconic creature, or at the very least, grant them draconic traits. Even more crucially, he determined that the altar could reverse the transformation—if only we had the necessary magic.   What happened next is a bit embarrassing. We decided to explore the rest of the temple, leaving the unconscious and bound cultist leader behind in the ritual chamber. In hindsight, it was a mistake not to leave someone to guard him or at least have Fiachna watch over him. When we returned from our exploration, the cultist was gone, leaving nothing but frayed ropes in his wake.   Our exploration of the temple didn’t yield much. We discovered a desecrated statue of the elven god Corellon and two letters in a defiled chapel guarded by four golems. The letters were signed by someone named Veggir, hinting at a larger scheme. The golems, unfortunately, sprang to life when I, in a rare lapse of attentiveness, triggered a hidden mechanism. Luke wasted no time in reminding me of my blunder.   When we returned to where we had left the leader of the cultists, he was gone, having escaped through a small, unstable tunnel. Determined to catch him, we followed the tunnel, which led to a cavern beneath Ravensfield. Along the way, we noticed tracks of a small creature—identified by Luke as an imp, likely the cultist leader’s familiar.   It didn’t take long to find the cultist again. He was standing beside the skeletal remains of a dragon in the middle of the cavern, performing a ritual that seemed aimed at raising the enormous creature. Gael, acting swiftly, shot him before he could complete the ritual. Still heavily injured from the previous fight, the cultist crumpled to the ground.   This time, we decided to guard his body closely, aware that the imp was still at large and could attempt to free him again. While most of us remained behind to keep watch, Gael and Dadroz went to explore the rest of the cavern. They found the entrance, which had been sealed off by thick roots and vines, with a red crystal embedded in the middle.   They called for Luke to join them, seeing as he was the master of magic. While we waited, the imp reappeared, this time intent on destroying the red crystal. Luckily, Gael, ever vigilant, shot it before it could do more damage. Luke quickly identified the crystal’s purpose. "It’s meant to keep the passage sealed," he explained. Deciding it was best to leave it in place for now, we headed back through the tunnel to the temple.   A quick investigation of the last two chambers in the temple revealed some treasure, as well as a pile of bones that animated when we stepped inside. The two creatures that formed were quickly defeated, their skeletal remains crumbling under our combined attacks.   With the temple finally cleared of monsters and fully investigated, we made our way back up to inform Reynis of our findings, including the good news that the ritual could be reversed.   Raynis looked visibly relieved. “So, there’s hope for me yet,”   15th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree    

Entry 22: Ravensfield
14th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Dear diary,   The morning of the 11th of Nuan, we set out for what has become my new home over the past five years: the village of Ravensfield. With our group back together, I decided to buy a new horse to help pull the cart we got from the villagers in Tarn so long ago.   The trek north was blissfully uneventful. The roads, narrow and seldom traveled, wind through sparsely populated areas. After the tumultuous events in Keralon over the past week, we all welcomed the tranquility.   We arrived early on the 13th of Nuan in Ravensfield. From a distance, I could tell the village was unusually busy. On the outskirts, locals were erecting a huge barn. Among them was my friend Saphira, working under the guidance of a person I didn't recognize.   I stopped Bart, the local baker, to ask him what all the commotion was about. With a flour-dusted smile, he informed me that the barn was being erected in the name of an organization called the Restoration Society. They are dedicated to rebuilding villages damaged in the war. Their leader, named Dan, had chosen Ravensfield as the headquarters for their efforts.   Deciding to investigate the Restoration Society later, I shifted the conversation to the thefts and attacks plaguing Ravensfield. Bart admitted that he had been a victim of theft just a few days ago. Curiously, only some bread had been stolen, leaving the money untouched. This unusual detail piqued my interest.   I thanked Bart for the information and led the others to my small house on the other side of the village, where I live with Zem and Saphira. The familiar sight of the cozy cottage brought a sense of relief and belonging. Saphira was already waiting for us at the door, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and excitement.   Inside, I introduced Zem to my companions. His enigmatic presence always seemed to fill a room, and I could tell my friends were intrigued by him. Once the introductions were made, I turned to Zem and asked if he had any more news about the recent happenings in the village.   Zem leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "There have been more thefts, but like Bart's case, they're peculiar. Items of necessity, like food and tools, have been taken, but anything of monetary value has been left behind. It's as if the thief or thieves are only interested in survival, not profit."   As far as the attacks go, two shepherds were killed when some sheep went missing, but after that, no more attacks occurred. It makes me think that whatever is doing this isn’t out to kill, but it does want to cover its tracks and avoid being discovered.   Zem then led us to the edge of the forest, where the most recent set of tracks could be found. He mentioned that he and Saphira had been debating what kind of creature it could be, but they couldn’t agree. Seeing the tracks, I understood why. Gael and I examined them and were left puzzled. The tracks were large and distinctly reptilian, but they had four claws instead of three, more like a cat. It seemed to be some sort of hybrid we had never seen before.   We followed the tracks into the forest to a small clearing, where they suddenly vanished. The only evidence left behind were signs of an apparent struggle, some scales, and a claw, but no blood. With no other tracks to follow, we headed back, and Gael asked Zem to lead us to the place where the shepherds were killed.   It was during our investigation that we learned something quite unexpected: Gael is fluent in sheep. This revelation led to much collective amusement and amazement. Despite the absurdity of it all, he managed to get some useful information from the animals, including a vague description of the creature. According to the sheep, it had no wings, was dark, and had a tail. Perhaps it was some sort of drake we had never heard of before?   Since the attacks and thefts always occurred at night, we decided to keep watch from the highest point in the village, the newly erected barn. Liliana secured permission from Dan, and we made ourselves comfortable on the roof while Zem went to fetch Saphira and some food.   As the stars began to twinkle overhead, I introduced Saphira to the others. We shared stories and caught up, our laughter echoing through the quiet night. Then, I shared the news from Velora’s army with Zem and Saphira. Their faces visibly paled upon hearing about the stolen eggs. Saphira, however, was not convinced they should have asked for aid from Keralon. She has always harbored a bit of a grudge since the war, and honestly, I can’t blame her.   During Liliana and Gael’s watch, they noticed a large shadow sneaking into the village. While Liliana woke the rest of us, Gael decided to investigate. I shifted my senses to Fiachna and followed him from above. We quickly spotted the creature—a bizarre blend of a large cat, reptile, and fish, with frills encircling its head. Unfortunately, it also spotted Gael.   As we rushed down to the village center, Gael tried to keep the creature occupied, or more accurately, tried to stay alive. Just as we arrived to join the fight, the creature teleported away, vanishing into the night. Undeterred, we tracked it into the forest, but it moved much faster than us, making it impossible to catch up.   A few hours after sunrise, we reached a clearing where the tracks vanished. This time, however, we found humanoid footprints leading away from the clearing, heading back towards the village. It became clear—we were dealing with some sort of shapeshifter.   We followed the tracks to a small, secluded camp. Gael, ever the direct one, called out, but only silence greeted us. A quick search of the camp revealed signs of a recent wound being cleaned and supplies hastily packed. I shared my suspicion that whoever lived here had likely gone to Ravensfield for more supplies and would return soon. Given that we were only a few hours behind, we decided to wait.   Spreading out around the clearing, we kept vigilant watch. It was Luke who first spotted a figure approaching—a half-elf, cautiously making his way back to the camp. Noticing something was amiss, he tried to flee, but Gael swiftly cut off his escape. The man, realizing he had no chance, surrendered without a fight. We brought him back to the camp, eager to get some answers.   His name was Raynis, originally from Drybank. He shared a harrowing tale of being kidnapped by cultists in red robes and cursed to transform into the monstrous creature we'd encountered. The curse twisted his body and mind, causing him to lose control and his memories whenever he transformed at night. The cult, dissatisfied with their twisted experiment, had abandoned him.   Raynis looked exhausted and desperate, his eyes pleading for understanding as he explained, "I have no control over the transformations. When the night falls, I become that monster, and everything becomes a blur. I wake up disoriented, with only fragments of what I've done." His voice trembled, and I could see the torment etched into his features.   Gael, always the voice of reason, asked, "Do you know why they did this to you? What their goal was?"   Raynis shook his head. "They mentioned something about harnessing chaos and using me as a weapon, but I was just a pawn to them. When they realized I wasn't going to be their perfect weapon, they discarded me."   We decided to seek help from Keralon to lift Raynis's curse, as this dark magic was beyond our abilities. In the meantime, we also needed to find a way to prevent his transformation from happening again. Gael and Liliana stayed with Raynis, while the rest of us headed back to Ravensfield. Alistan wrote a letter to Sir Donovan with our request and handed it to Zem for delivery to Keralon.   I gathered some supplies to craft a sleeping potion, hoping that knocking Raynis out cold might prevent the transformation. Zem informed me that Dan had come by to talk to me, so I headed over to the building site. Dan explained that the consortium he worked for was interested in setting up trade north of Keralon and genuinely wanted to help restore the village, which had suffered greatly from the war. However, the villagers were reluctant to trust strangers, so he asked me to vouch for them, knowing my word carried weight.   Seeing their genuine interest in supporting the local villages and recognizing the benefits this could bring, I agreed to talk to some of the traders in Ravensfield. After making the rounds and speaking with the traders, I bought a bottle of whisky to send to Zem as a gesture of goodwill. Then, we headed back into the forest to the camp.   Upon our arrival, Gael informed us of his conversation with a local dryad. She had warned him that both Raynis and Liliana were dangerous and needed to be watched closely. However, she also provided a crucial piece of information: the evil we were searching for originated from a place called Hollow Hill, deeper in the forest.   This gave us a new destination for the morning. But as the evening approached, we set up camp and prepared for the night, determined to prevent Raynis from transforming into the shadowdrake. Unfortunately, the sleeping potion was ineffective. As soon as the sun set, Raynis transformed into the monstrous shadowdrake. Thankfully, we had anticipated this and blinded him beforehand. Otherwise, the fight might have turned out very differently. Both Liliana and Alistan were knocked out when the creature spit a ball of darkness at them, engulfing them completely. But with combined efforts, we managed to subdue the beast, forcing it back into Raynis’s true form. I quickly revived the twins, and we all anxiously waited for Raynis to regain consciousness. A collective sigh of relief swept over the camp when he woke up and didn’t transform back into the monster.   Maintaining control over this situation until help arrives will be a challenge. Our hopes now rest on finding answers in Hollow Hill tomorrow.   14th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 21: Cultists twarted
10th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Dear diary,   A week has passed since I last wrote here, and a whirlwind of events has swept through our lives. The city has been abuzz with activity for the past five days, all in preparation for the grand welcoming of Norgar Laar and Rachnar Ergoll. On the 10th, they will be officially received by the king, and the anticipation has everyone in a frenzy. Merchants and bards have flocked to Keralon, turning the city into a vibrant tapestry of color and sound.   Alistan and I, ever mindful of our new duties, decided to lend our hands to the city guards, helping guide the chaos into something manageable. While we were busy maintaining order, the others indulged in the festivities. My brother, Luke, seemed intent on diving headfirst into another romance, with Gael as his wingman. However, our elven companion proved more interested in forging useful connections than flirting with barmaids.   The most intriguing development during this time was the arrival of Robert Talespiner, our old friend and former travel companion. Robert, who had journeyed past Ravensfield to reach the city, brought with him a letter from Zem and Sapphira. Their message was alarming: Ravensfield has been plagued by thefts and mysterious animal attacks.   After sharing the troubling news with the group, I made my intentions clear. Once the festivities are over, I plan to head to Ravensfield to investigate. The city may be caught up in celebration, but some things cannot be ignored. The safety of our friends and the tranquility of their village are paramount, and we must act to protect them.   The procession to the palace would pass right by Erna’s Wish, which was perfect for us. We decided to watch from the tavern's roof, promising Feyris we wouldn't damage it. Early in the morning, we gathered there, savoring our dragon-themed breakfast and steering clear of the already drunk crowd that had spilled out of the inns and onto the streets.   When the procession moved below us, we tried to catch the attention of Rachnar and Norgar. Liliana, ever the subtle one, started waving her flaming sword around. It worked—both Rachnar and Norgar noticed us, waving and bowing in return. Then, without warning, Norgar collapsed from his drake.   It says something about us that we immediately suspected foul play. Without hesitation, I sent Fiachna swooping down to deliver a healing spell to Norgar, all the while scanning for signs of trouble. Just then, I spotted three cloaked figures on a neighboring roof, and Liliana pointed them out to the rest of us.   With practiced ease, our group sprang into action.   Gael and I acted in sync, weaving our respective magics to trap the assassins. Vines and thorns erupted from the rooftop, forming a dense barrier around them. Meanwhile, Alistan executed a near-impossible dash across a washing line, aiming for the opposite roof where a spectral figure had appeared to attack us. It was astonishing—seeing someone in such heavy armor pull off a feat like that.   The most dangerous threat, however, descended from the sky. A huge manticore crashed down onto the roof right next to Gael, ready to strike. With the assassins contained and the specter dealt with, we focused our combined might on the flying beast. It attempted to flee, but a well-placed arrow from Dadroz ended its flight, sending it crashing back onto the roof, lifeless.   With the battle on the roof over, we turned our attention to the chaos unfolding on the streets below. Cultists clad in the same red robes as those we had faced in the palace were attacking the draconian guards in what seemed like a suicidal mission. They stood no chance against the skilled fighters, but it was all a diversion. Amidst the chaos, another cultist managed to steal something from Norgar’s pack and fled down the streets.   Alistan, Dadroz, and Gael gave chase, while Luke and Liliana dealt with the surviving assassins. I perched on the roof and shifted my vision to Fiachna, my trusted companion, to give chase from the sky. Luckily, I did. Unhampered by the crowd, it was much easier to keep track of the fleeing cultist and guide the others in the right direction.   The chase finally ended in a square a good distance away from Erna’s Wish. Two other cultists were waiting for us there, and another fight broke out. It quickly became clear they were no match for Gael, Dadroz, and Alistan. With nowhere else to go, the leader of the cultists yelled, “Release the beast!” in a language my companions didn’t understand. Luckily, I did, so I managed to give them a warning right before a door burst apart and a massive flesh golem lumbered into view.   The grotesque creature towered over us, its patchwork body stitched together from various sources, emanating an aura of sheer terror. Its soulless eyes locked onto us, and with a guttural roar, it charged. Alistan, Dadroz, and Gael immediately switched their focus, recognizing the threat.   With no magic weapons or offensive spells available, fighting the monster would be impossible. Alistan, quick on his feet and even quicker in thought, grabbed the stolen gem and they bolted. His stroke of brilliance wasn’t just in the escape, but in luring the rampaging beast toward a group of knights. These knights, armed with magical swords, made quick work of the golem, dispatching it with practiced ease.   By the time Liliana, Luke, and I arrived at the scene, it was all over. The once-threatening golem lay in pieces, and the square was slowly calming down. Shortly after, Sir Donovan arrived with some of the royal guards. Already informed of our intervention in the assassination attempt, he was mightily impressed with our actions, especially in recovering the stolen gem.   In a show of gratitude and respect, Sir Donovan casually gifted a magical sword to Alistan, declaring it improper for a knight to be without one. He then offered two of his own gemmed rings as a reward to the rest of us. Bless Luke for being sensible and taking them, especially since Gael and Liliana wanted to refuse out of modesty.   With the excitement over, we headed back to Erna’s Wish for some well-deserved food and drinks. And, of course, to repair the roof—we did promise Feyris, after all. Luckily, I know exactly the right spell for that! As I cast the spell to mend the roof, we couldn’t help but laugh at the day’s wild events. The roof, much like our spirits, was soon restored, ready to face whatever adventure awaited next.   10th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree  

Entry 20: I see fire
4th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Dear diary,   When we woke up, Amarra was gone. Gael informed us she had slipped away in the night, likely avoiding another round of arguments with Luke. She was never one for long goodbyes. Left with no choice but to move forward, we had a quick breakfast before Luke activated the teleportation circle, transporting us to the heart of Caern Fussil in search of the elusive crystal.   We arrived in a dimly lit cave, the air thick with the scent of sulfur. At the center stood a small pedestal, upon which rested a tiny marble. Opposite it, a demonic face was carved from the stone, its gaping mouth spewing lava into a glowing pool below, casting an eerie light around us.   Unsure of our next move, we decided to explore the surrounding caverns. Each held its mysteries, three of them containing magical circles linked to the elemental plane of fire. In two of these caves, we discovered ancient books inscribed with symbols in Ignan, the language of the elemental plane. The script was indecipherable to us, but it was clear these tomes contained powerful rituals.   Frustration gnawed at us, knowing the key to our quest lay within those pages, just out of reach. The cave's oppressive heat and the ominous glow of lava heightened our sense of urgency, as we pondered how to unlock the secrets hidden within the cryptic texts.   Figuring out how to retrieve the crystal took some doing, but we eventually cracked the code. It turned out that standing in one of the circles while holding the marble activated it, summoning elemental creatures. Luke bravely stepped into the first circle, and we proceeded clockwise through the caverns, leaving one of us behind in each until Gael, Liliana, and I faced the last group of creatures and completed the ritual to unlock the central cavern.   Returning to the original cave, Luke placed the marble into the mouth of the demonic face. It sank into the pool of lava, revealing a vast cavern behind it. In the center of the room lay a larger pool of lava, and suspended above it was the crystal we sought. But it wasn't unguarded. As soon as Alistan and Liliana stepped into the room, a fire elemental materialized and attacked.   The battle was fierce, the air crackling with heat and energy. The fire elemental's rage was formidable, but our combined efforts ultimately overcame it. As the elemental perished, its fiery essence solidified into a staff—a final gift for my fire-loving brother. With the guardian defeated, Luke carefully retrieved the crystal from above the lava pool.   The moment the crystal was removed from its place, Alistan and I felt a rumbling from above. The heart of Caern Fussil had been removed, and the magic that held the tower together began to unravel. The structure started to collapse around us. Fortunately, Luke had anticipated this. When we scrambled back upstairs, a prepared escape route awaited us.   We emerged from the ruins and watched as the tower crumbled into a heap of stones and ash. With heavy hearts and a sense of finality, we said our last goodbyes to Caern Fussil and began our journey back to Keralon.   4th of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 19: Caern Fussil falls
3rd of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Dear diary,   As I write this, we sit amidst the smoldering ruins of what was once Caern Fussil, the wizard tower where my brother Luke had been an apprentice for the past few years. How did it fall to ruin, you ask? Patience, dear reader; for the tale begins last evening.   It all started when Alistan and I were led into the shadowy basement of The Dull Blade. We presented our hard-earned coins to the cloaked figure seated there, who scrutinized them before nodding in approval. With a low rumble, a secret door swung open, revealing a spiral staircase descending further into the depths beneath the tavern, the true heart of the Hedge Knights' headquarters.   The air grew cooler as we descended, the stone walls illuminated by flickering torches casting long, dancing shadows. The further we went, the more I felt the weight of history and tradition pressing down on us. We finally reached a vast chamber, its walls adorned with ancient tapestries depicting the exploits of past Hedge Knights. At the center stood a grand, long table made of dark, polished wood, its surface etched with intricate symbols and runes.   A handful of knights greeted us and offered food and drink. They asked questions, and chatted with us while we waited. They also informed us that most of the knights had already gone, so the true initiation ceremony would be performed later. However, they mentioned we would get to meet Klaus. The mention of his name caused some amusement among the knights present, and I was sure we would shortly know what this private joke was about.   Sure enough, about an hour later, we were led even further down into the depths of the Dull Blade. We entered an enormous hall, its columns rising majestically to support the vaulted ceiling. Eerie whispers surrounded us as we walked through the freezing cold among the columns. Suddenly, a massive spectral dragon manifested in front of us, its terrifying roar sending chills down our spines. But we held our ground, ready to fight.   As we stood firm, the roar morphed into a thunderous laugh, echoing through the cavern. The spectral dragon, known as Klaus among the knights, settled down and warmly greeted us. With a twinkle in his spectral eyes, he praised our bravery and welcomed us into the esteemed ranks of the Long Table. Klaus revealed that the gate behind him led to the sacred heart of the Long Table’s headquarters, where we were always honored guests.   After an insightful round of questioning, we ascended back up and reunited with our companions at Erna’s Wish for a lively post-initiation celebration. Alistan valiantly attempted to recount the epic tale of our knighthood, but the excitement proved too much for the twins. Despite Liliana’s assistance, their musical talents far outweighed their storytelling skills. Nevertheless, it was a night filled with exhilaration, and we retired to our beds, utterly spent yet content.   The next morning, we were rudely awakened by a frantic Luke, his words tumbling out in a jumbled mess about a message from Amarra and a fire elemental wreaking havoc in his room. It was a lot to process before my morning coffee, but Luke’s urgency left us with no time to dawdle.   As we made our way to the De La Roost mansion, Luke managed to piece together a coherent explanation. Amarra had urgently summoned him to Caern Fussil, insisting we all accompany him. Hastily gathering our friends and mounting our horses, we dashed towards the wizard tower.   Approaching the tower, Luke noted the absence of smoke, a stark deviation from the usual scene. Sending Fiachna ahead for reconnaissance, she returned with alarming news—Caern Fussil was under siege by two monstrous Umber Hulks, towering insectoid creatures.   With urgency driving our steps, we raced to the tower's aid. Liliana, fueled by determination, charged ahead to confront the beasts. But in the blink of an eye, she lay battered on the ground from a fierce blow.   Drawing upon my magic, I sought to turn the tide of battle, weaving curses to weaken our foes and channeling healing energy through Fiachna to sustain Liliana. In a fierce and frantic clash, we vanquished the Umber Hulks, their lifeless forms sprawled before us.   With the immediate threat quelled, we ventured into the battered tower, our hearts heavy with worry for Amarra's safety.   As we stepped into the tower's depths, the aftermath of a brutal battle greeted us—scattered debris, shattered relics, and lingering echoes of strife. Yet amidst the chaos, we pressed forward, guided by Luke's unwavering determination.   Navigating through the labyrinth of illusion magic that cloaked the basement, we discovered Amarra, battered and unconscious but mercifully alive. Liliana's healing touch stirred her from slumber, relief flooding her weary features at the sight of familiar faces.   With a heavy heart, Amarra recounted the harrowing tale of her past catching up with her—a vengeful former lover, wielding dark magic and bent on her demise. Was it mere coincidence or the sinister machinations of fate that this seems to befall wizards?   Expressing her intent to flee to safety, Amarra entrusted Luke with a crucial task—to retrieve the crystal that anchored Caern Fussil to the elemental plane of fire, ensuring its legacy endured. But her refusal of our aid spoke volumes, a testament to the dangers that lurked beyond the tower's walls.   As dusk settled over the ruined tower, we rallied together, salvaging what meager supplies remained and fortifying our makeshift camp in the basement. With dawn's light, we would embark on a perilous quest, our resolve unyielding in the face of adversity.   After five years of respite, the call of adventure beckoned once more, weaving its threads of excitement and uncertainty into the tapestry of our lives.   3rd of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Entry 18: peace in our time
2nd of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Dear Diary,   I jot this down as I sit in the basement of The Dull Blade, the tavern that serves as the headquarters of the Hedge Knights of the Long Table, awaiting my initiation into their ranks. As you might guess, our mission was a resounding success.   The night on the riverbank passed quietly, the only sounds being the rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl. As the first light of dawn broke, I sent Fiachna to scout the camp from above. The bird's-eye view revealed two crucial details: the entire army was made up of draconians and kobolds—no humans in sight—and they weren’t preparing for a siege or any kind of conflict. Their camp lacked the telltale signs of aggression, which hinted that they were not here to fight.   Given our distinct appearances, blending into the camp was out of the question. I proposed a direct approach—simply walking up to the camp and asking for information. I cautioned my companions to be judicious with their words, as they had a tendency to overshare. Alistan looked somewhat offended by my remark, but the flush in his cheeks confirmed that he knew I was right.   As we approached the camp, a small delegation of kobolds and a lone draconian emerged to meet us. The draconian introduced himself as Rachnar Ergoll, the leader of the army. Without missing a beat, Gael launched into a series of questions about their presence. Rachnar, in turn, demanded to know our identities and whether we were official emissaries from the city.   Sensing the conversation was stalling and realizing Rachnar would only speak to an official delegation, I decided to twist the truth slightly. I assured him we were indeed sent by the city. It wasn’t exactly a lie—we were sent by the city, just not as official emissaries but as spies. No need to delve into specifics.   The talk with Rachnar was surprisingly brief, though overcoming cultural differences required some effort. In essence, Velora Morenthene, the Fenhunter, sought to establish a better relationship with Keralon. She wanted to set fixed borders and end the ongoing hostilities between their factions. When I inquired how their army had managed to approach the city undetected, Rachnar openly shared that his queen had used powerful magic to open a gate for their passage. This revelation suggested their intentions for peace were genuine; with such magic at their disposal, they could have easily transported the army directly into the city if they had wished to wage war.   Luke’s suggestion that Rachnar write a letter detailing their intentions was met with confusion. After a brief consultation with his officers, Rachnar returned with a new plan: he wanted to send an emissary into the city to speak directly with the king. We agreed to this proposal, but as we were to be part of his delegation, we needed to be initiated into the horde. The initiation required non-lethal ritual combat against their champion, Drann.   I had heard of Drann before—a fearsome warrior renowned for wielding a greatsword in one hand with effortless might. We accepted the terms and were led outside for the fight. As we waited, another draconian joined us, standing out with his black scales in contrast to the camp’s predominant emerald green.   Shortly after, Drann made his entrance, a sight that sent shivers down the spines of many of my companions. He was enormous, even for a draconian, with wings that marked him as exceptional. The massive sword he carried seemed almost weightless in his grasp. Rachnar explained the duel’s terms to him in draconic, a language that, to my surprise, Alistan appeared to understand.   The tension in the air was palpable as we prepared for the combat. Drann’s formidable presence loomed over us, but we stood ready, determined to prove our worth. The gathered draconians and kobolds formed a tight circle around us, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.   Drann quipped that if any of us fragile humans died in the fight, it wouldn't be his fault. Liliana, not missing a beat, retorted that if he were to be accidentally killed, we wouldn't be to blame either. Her sharp reply, though made in jest, reinforced my growing worry about her. The gentle soul I once knew before she entered the feywild would never have said such a thing.   The fight itself was brutally short. Drann lived up to his fearsome reputation, knocking down Alistan and nearly scorching me to a crisp when he transformed into a fiery tornado. But in the end, our numbers and teamwork overwhelmed him with ease. The lesson I took from this was clear: I desperately needed to invest in some protective magic.   With the fight over, Rachnar offered us food and drink while we rested. He introduced the black-scaled draconian as his adopted son, Norgar Laar. Norgar would be the emissary for the army, accompanying us to speak with the king. While Alistan talked to Norgar, I penned a letter to Vern Skald, informing him that we would be returning as a delegation and requesting that he open the gates for us.   As I wrote, I couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The success of our mission so far had bolstered my confidence. The draconian army's intent for peace seemed genuine, and I hoped that our efforts would help pave the way for a lasting alliance between our peoples.   As we waited for the reply, Alistan and Liliana whipped out their instruments and began to play. Why on earth they decided to carry them along on this mission is beyond me, but their impromptu performance was met with enthusiasm. The kobolds and draconians joined in with drums and horns, transforming the camp into a lively celebration.   Now that we were welcomed members of the horde, I took the opportunity to explore the camp and see if I could spot any familiar faces. At a campfire in one of the smaller sections, I found exactly what I was looking for: three kobolds I had helped heal after the battle years ago. They greeted me warmly, but I couldn't help but notice an undercurrent of unease, as if everyone was eager to wrap this up and return home.   Expressing my concern, I gently pressed the matter, and the kobolds exchanged worried glances. They revealed that their eggs and children were being stolen back home, a mystery that had left their community in turmoil. They had no idea how it was happening or who was responsible, but the urgency to solve this problem and return home was palpable. Queen Velora had sent Rachnar to negotiate aid from Keralon, hoping to secure the help they desperately needed.   Hearing this, my heart went out to them. Their plight added a new layer of urgency to our mission. Ensuring peace was not just about diplomacy; it was about safeguarding their future. The stolen eggs and missing children represented a dire threat to their survival, and now more than ever, I felt the weight of our responsibility.   I said my goodbyes to the kobolds and headed back to rejoin the others. As we walked, I pulled Luke aside and shared what I had learned about the stolen eggs and children. I told him that, regardless of Keralon's decision, I intended to help Queen Velora and her people. The rules of being a witch: Even if it's not your fault, it's your responsibility. Luke, bless his heart, nodded without hesitation and promised to join me.   Our conversation was abruptly cut short by a cry of alarm from Dadroz. He pointed to the sky where three creatures were rapidly approaching. Thanks to his keen eyes, we had a moment to brace ourselves before they dove down upon us.   The fight was short and brutal. The larger creature seemed impervious to non-magical attacks, but Liliana's enchanted sword made short work of it. Before long, all three were on the ground. The two smaller ones were clearly skeletal dragons, but the third, larger one was a disturbing construct—a grotesque blend of dragon and metal. Norgar cried out in dismay, recognizing the dragon parts as belonging to his kind. It was clear now: whoever was stealing the eggs and children was sending these abominations after us.   Seeing the anguish in Norgar's eyes only strengthened my resolve. We were not just dealing with a potential war; we were up against a sinister force willing to desecrate and weaponize the bodies of their victims. The urgency of our mission hit me with renewed force. We had to get back to Keralon, secure their help, and put an end to this threat.   The rest of the trek to the city was uneventful. As we approached the gates, they swung open for us, revealing a row of horses ready to take us to Palace Hill. It seemed Vern Skald had done his job well, preparing for our arrival.   However, things took a strange turn when we reached Palace Hill. There was no delegation waiting for us, and the guard I approached seemed completely unaware of our arrival. This struck me as odd, and suspicion of foul play began to gnaw at me. The guard led us into the dining hall of the guard station, promising to fetch his superiors.   I left Fiachna outside to keep watch, observing through her eyes. When I saw three guards rushing toward the building, I quickly shifted back to my own body to alert the others. But before I could say anything, chaos erupted. We were ambushed by several guards, all wearing red sashes.   A fierce battle ensued. These weren't ordinary guards; they were cultists. Despite the initial surprise, we fought back fiercely. In the end, we managed to take down the cultists and two of the other three guards. The last guard was swayed to our side by Gael’s charm, his fear melting into loyalty under Gael's influence.   As the final echoes of battle died down, the sound of heavy boots approached from outside. A moment later, a group of knights burst into the room, their armor gleaming and weapons at the ready.   Their leader, Ser Donovan, seemed perplexed to find a group of unconscious guards sprawled across the floor, but it didn’t take much effort to convince him that we were the delegation and that we had been ambushed by cultists. He looked troubled when he learned of the cult’s infiltration, mentioning that his knights had been sent to meet us at the gate. This indicated that the cult’s influence, marked by the dragon emblem, reached disturbingly high within the court.   The knights secured the prisoners, while Ser Donovan led us towards the court. He informed us that the king was not in the city, but a council of nobles and knights would receive Norgar. As we walked through the grand halls, the weight of the mission bore down on me. Norgar needed to convince these nobles of the sincerity of the draconian envoy, and the stakes couldn’t be higher.   Upon entering the council chamber, the atmosphere shifted. Ornate tapestries lined the walls, and a long table stretched across the room, occupied by stern-faced nobles and armored knights. Norgar stepped forward with a dignified air, despite the tension.   What followed was a lengthy, pomp-filled discussion that, to be honest, was rather dull. Norgar spoke eloquently about the proposed peace treaty and the establishment of an official border, all delivered with the necessary grandeur that nobles seem to relish. Each word was carefully chosen, each gesture meticulously executed, as if every moment was choreographed.   When the meeting concluded, we made our way out of the grand halls of Palace Hill and back towards Foregate to report our progress to Vern Skald. As we entered The Dull Blade, the familiar sights and sounds of the tavern enveloped us, and I settled into my seat with a sense of accomplishment tinged with anticipation.   As I recounted our encounters and revelations to Vern Skald, I noticed a glint of knowing in his eyes. It was evident that he possessed information of what had transpired, gathered from observation from afar. The lack of details pointed to this, rather than having spies nearby.   Upon hearing my account of the kobolds’ plight and Queen Velora’s desire for peace, Vern Skald nodded thoughtfully. It seemed that our mission had uncovered layers of intrigue and complexity that extended beyond the surface. Velora’s quest for peace now held greater significance, intertwined with the desperate plight of her people.   Vern Skald commended our efforts, acknowledging the risks we had faced and the valuable insights we had gained. With a gesture, he presented Dadroz, Alistan and me with a large silver coin, a symbol of recognition for our contributions. These coins, he explained, would serve as tokens for our initiation into our respective orders.   For Alistan and me, this meant descending into the depths of The Dull Blade, while Dadroz was tasked with a journey to the Mausoleum of the Gods. As I sit here now, awaiting the initiation ceremony, a mix of excitement and apprehension courses through me.   2nd of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree  

Entry 17: I shall wear midnight
1st of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Dear Diary,   It’s been five long years since I last wrote in this diary. Not that I’ve neglected keeping a journal—just this one. The day we said goodbye to our companions from Tarn, I set it aside. Now that we've reunited, it feels fitting to pick up where I left off. Five years ago, almost to the day, we left Liliana at the gate to the Feywild, and we all went our separate ways. Today, we finally had our long-awaited reunion. We chose Erna’s Wish, the tavern in the Foregate district, for our get-together. Feyris, who has been working there and now owns the place, closed it just for us.   We were expected there at eleven in the morning. While I arrived on time, I was sure most of the others would show up hours early. Punctuality has never been their strong suit. My dear brother, of course, has the excuse of having to travel half a day to reach Keralon, so he arrived the evening before.   The anticipation buzzed in my veins as I prepared for the reunion. The memories of our adventures and the bond we forged kept replaying in my mind. I couldn’t help but wonder how much everyone had changed and what stories they’d bring. Erna’s Wish stood just as lively and warm as I remembered, now glowing with a sense of belonging thanks to Feyris’s touch. As the clock ticked closer to eleven, I took a moment to savor the calm before the storm of laughter, tales, and perhaps a few tears. It was time to reconnect with the past and embrace the present, together once more.   When I arrived, right on time, my heart warmed at the sight of my old companions from Tarn already gathered. All except for Ileas, who had let us know he wouldn’t be joining—he’s found a good life with his clan.   As a trained witch, I notice things others miss, subtle gestures and fleeting looks. Luke rushed to embrace me, his enthusiasm undimmed by the years. Yet, in the midst of his hug, I caught Alistan's confused and slightly worried glance at my choice of dress. Gael welcomed me with a genuine smile, and so did Dadroz, though his smile was just a veneer, masking the deep curiosity typical of those who walk his path.   The greatest change, however, was in Liliana. Like Gael and Dadroz, she smiled, but there was a hint of cold detachment beneath it. Her once dark, lustrous waves had turned to white, her eyes now an icy blue, reflecting the effects of her time spent in the realm of the Winter Queen. But the transformation didn’t stop at her appearance. I could sense an internal shift, a hardening, likely the result of her prolonged exposure to the fey.   As we settled in, the air buzzed with the energy of our reunion. The tavern, closed for our private gathering, felt like a cocoon of nostalgia and new beginnings. Feyris had transformed it into a warm haven, the perfect backdrop for our stories to unfold once more.   “I see you have not brought a new companion,” I said teasingly to Luke, my voice tinged with genuine affection.   Luke grunted, “not this time sister”   As we sat down, the conversations flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and exclamations of surprise. Each of us had changed in ways both big and small, but the bond we forged in our shared adventures remained strong.   Despite the joy of the reunion, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Liliana’s transformation was more profound than she let on. Her time in the Feywild had left an indelible mark, and I wondered how it had truly changed her. But for now, I pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the here and now, reveling in the company of my dear friends.   I kept my observations to myself, of course, and after Luke pushed a glass of wine into my hand, I decided to sit back and listen. He regaled us with amusing stories about his romantic entanglements over the past five years, his animated recounting of his escapades with Lyra drawing hearty laughter from the group.   In the middle of one of his tales, the door swung open, and two heavily armored men stepped in. For a tense moment, we braced for trouble, but then they moved aside, and Elsa strode in, looking as if she had just come from court. Which, as it turned out, she had. She greeted everyone with polite hugs, accepted a glass of wine, and took a seat.   Elsa’s transformation was as remarkable as Liliana’s, though in a different way. Her years of training at a finishing school had prepared her for a life as a courtier, and she had embraced this role with grace and poise. She mentioned hearing about some of us at court, her gaze lingering on Luke, implying it might not have been flattering news.   Our conversation was abruptly cut short by the sound of fighting outside. Moments later, one of Elsa's guards was knocked through the door. A smile spread across my face as Dorr appeared in the doorway, looking as rugged and determined as ever. The guards had tried to refuse him entry, but he wasn't having any of it. Elsa dismissed her guards with a wave of her hand, and I pushed a large tankard of ale into Dorr’s hand before hugging him tightly.   "Dorr, it's good to see you," I said, pulling back to look at him.   "Likewise," he replied with a grin, taking a long swig from the tankard.   With everyone finally gathered, the atmosphere in the tavern shifted to one of celebration. We shared stories, laughter, and a sense of camaraderie that time and distance had not diminished. The years had changed us all in different ways, but the bond we shared was as strong as ever.   The topic then shifted to the war with the Fenhunter. Both Alistan and Dorr recounted their experiences in the battle. When I mentioned that I had been there as well, Alistan seemed puzzled. I clarified that I hadn't fought but had arrived afterward to help heal the wounded and bury the dead. What I didn't mention was that I had tended to both sides, not just Keralon's. It was on that fateful day that I met two of my dearest friends, Zem and Saphira.   Luke, predictably, focused his attention on Elsa, while the rest of us engaged in small talk. Suddenly, the town bell started ringing in a sequence that signaled an alarm. This was highly unusual, so we all rushed outside to see what was happening. As people pointed toward the north gate, I sent Fiachna into the sky to scout ahead.   The sight through Fiachna’s eyes sent a chill down my spine. A large army was marching toward the gate, bearing the colors of the Fenhunter. The only plausible explanation for how such a force had approached undetected was the use of powerful magic.   Panic gripped the town as the bells continued to sound their urgent warning. The streets filled with townsfolk, their faces etched with fear and confusion.   My companions, ever eager to assist, rushed to the gate and offered their help to the overwhelmed guards. Watching Alistan negotiate with the guards, I couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. Despite the years that had passed, some things never changed. However, the guards, bound by protocol, insisted that since we weren't part of the army or the knights, we should return home.   Sensing the futility of the argument, I suggested, "Let’s allow these men to do their duties and head back to the tavern."   When we arrived, Elsa was gone—undoubtedly back to court to help manage the crisis. Dorr and Feyris were perched on the roof, watching the unfolding events with keen interest. We joined them and spent the next few hours observing the Fenhunter army as they set up camp a safe distance from the city.   After a while, Feyris suggested we head back inside to enjoy some of the food he had prepared. The atmosphere shifted as we indulged in his delicious meals and listened to Alistan’s stories. One tale, about a cursed tree and some dark fey, had us all engrossed until a sudden knock on the door interrupted.   Feyris went to check, only to find no one there. Alistan, ever alert, caught a sound coming from the kitchen. We exchanged wary glances and followed the noise, hearts pounding with anticipation.   When Feyris went to check the kitchen, he found Vern Skald leaning casually against the counter, sampling some food. Vern, a former knight turned Herald of the Outer Rings, the hedge knights, looked up and grinned.   "Alistan," he said, "just the man I was looking for. And I need to speak with Dadroz and you," he added, turning to me. "You're all aiming for positions in the outer circle, correct?"   The mention of our ambitions piqued our interest. Vern's expression grew serious as he explained his urgent mission. With the arrival of the Fenhunter army, he had a critical task for us. We were to sneak out of the city and uncover the true reason behind the army's presence—without provoking a war.   We accepted without hesitation and began devising a plan. Our first challenge was escaping the city, as the guards would never allow us through the gates since we weren't knights. Dadroz suggested two possible routes. One was through tunnels rumored to exist beneath the graveyards in Huntington. The other involved paying off a ferryman in Fishtown to smuggle us out.   While I would have preferred the tunnels, as they also gave us a guaranteed entry back into the city, the majority voted for the ferry. When we arrived in Fishtown, we noticed people in a panic. I tried to calm them, assuring them that the hedge knights would keep everyone safe and that they should all just go home. Alistan and Liliana joined in, and our combined efforts were enough to spread reassurance through the crowd.   At the harbor, we found that the guards had already locked it down, preventing anyone from going out or coming in. Since this was Dadroz’s territory, we left the task of finding a boat or someone to take us out to him. Dadroz, with his knack for navigating the underbelly of the city, would know the right people to approach.   While he searched, I wanted to send a message to Zem and Saphira, hoping they might have insights about these new developments. However, I feared the village was too far to reach without Luke’s magic, which hadn’t fully recovered since our ordeal with Seraphine.   In the end, Dadroz secured us a boat and found a bugbear willing to ferry us across the river and back into the city. After a few failed attempts by our illustrious thief to reach the boat undetected, Luke and I stepped in. The guards were wary when we approached them, and one of them even fired a crossbow at me, grazing my arm. I quickly wove a suggestion spell, sending him home. Luke charmed the other two, convincing them we were there to secure the boats.   With the guards now cooperative, we secured our boat and headed out onto the river, moving under the cover of darkness. We aimed for an easily recognizable spot far outside the city—an old oak growing on the riverbank. When given the message by Fiachna, the bugbear would return to pick us up there.   As the bugbear sailed back toward the city, we set up camp near the ancient oak, its gnarled branches stretching out like protective arms. The night was quiet, save for the occasional hoot of an owl and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. We gathered around a small fire, the flickering flames casting long shadows, and discussed our plan for the morning.   "We need to find out why this army is here without provoking a conflict," Alistan reiterated, his eyes reflecting the firelight.   Dadroz nodded, "We should start by observing their camp. See if we can find any clues."   "I'll send Fiachna ahead to scout," I said, stroking my familiar's feathers. "She can give us a bird's-eye view of the camp."   As we settled down for the night, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were on the brink of something monumental. The presence of the Fenhunter army so close to Keralon was more than just a military maneuver—it was a harbinger of change. With our minds set on the task ahead, we drifted into a restless sleep, ready to tackle the problem of the army at dawn.   1st of Nuan, 126 Era of the Tree

Letter to Luke 6

Dear brother,   I am happy to hear you have arrived safely back at Caern Fussil and that Amarra has accepted you again for training. I told you not to worry about it. She saw the potential in you five years ago, and that has not changed, quite the contrary. Your power will also recover in time, I am sure of that.   We knew that things wouldn’t go well with Seraphine, deep down we knew. A Fiend at full power, completely restored? She would never have been the same as the sweet girl you freed from the cultists, and the one you introduced to me. It is almost sad to restore her to her full being, but it was the right thing to do.   I know you will miss her, just as you miss Emily and Lyra. They have all added experience and joy to your life, and even if it all didn’t work out, it helped shape you into the man you are now. Still an idiot sometimes, but still beloved and caring.   After we parted I traveled back to my village with Zem and Saphira, and I am afraid it will take a while to recover from the ordeal. Not since the encounter with the Yeth Hound have I been so close to death. Yet I think the wound to my pride from falling into the river, twice, while trying to cross it, will take longer to heal.   I am still grateful that you didn’t laugh, and very grateful for drying my clothes, but I saw the twinkle in your eyes nonetheless.   Now I will go back to my tasks, help the people here. There are births to attend to, and wakes to hold. Did you know that sitting with the dead, showing them the way to the afterlife, is quite peaceful? I usually just take a book to read though. Don’t tell anyone.   You’ll also be pleased to hear that Bill and Bianca are doing well, and are expecting. We’ll have more goats to name soon. I also expect to bring some freshly made goat cheese to our next meeting. I assume you are going to the festival right? I expect a lot of our old friends will be there. Five years will have passed so Liliana’s enslavement should finally have ended.   Five years…A lot has happened, and even though it may feel you are right back where you left off, I can assure you brother of mine, you are not. You have experienced and changed, lived and loved and grown.   A wise man told me recently that it is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.   I will give my regards to Zem and Saphira, and hope to see you soon in Keralon! You still owe me drinks, and at least a good pastry.   Your loving sister,   Hayley

Letter to Luke 5

My dear brother,   Have you run out of fair human maidens that you have now decided to court a demon girl? No prejudice of course, at least she sounds more helpful than Lyra did. And you are mistaken my darling brother, I do agree with your decision to help Seraphine, especially under the given circumstances, it was the right thing to do.   And don’t you worry, I have gathered what coin I had left, added yours and I will travel to Keralon to find a scroll of banishment, or something similar. Hopefully it, and me will reach you before your confrontation with Hector. I know you wish to keep me safe, but that sentiment runs both ways, so I am on my way to help.   I am sure with the five of us, as Saphira and Zem could not be dissuaded from coming along, we will manage to take on this cult and this evil spellcaster. And before long sweet little Seraphine will be back where she belongs. If I can’t find a way to banish her, I’ll make sure to bring enough drinks to celebrate either way.   It also saddens me to inform you that Bob has passed away. I have procured a replacement so that Bill won’t feel alone though. Bianca is a bit young and stubborn, but I’m sure Bill will teach her her place.   Aside from that, the trouble with the fey seems to have died down a little more since I last wrote to you. The rumors in Keralon have run their course and with it, the buzz is fading. I do still have to deal with them from time to time, but it has become less dangerous and less often.   I will cut this letter short and hope it reaches you swiftly, while I make my way to Keralon to gather what supplies are needed, and I will hopefully join you with a scroll of banishment in my pack.   See you soon my brother, and I look forward to meeting your latest beloved.   Your caring Sister,   Hayley

Letter to Luke 4

My darling brother,   I am sorry to hear that the romance with Kyra did not end well. I liked the girl, and I fondly remember the two of you stopping by the village here. Finally I got to celebrate your luck with you and I think we ran out of wine at some point. The evening might still be a bit hazy in my memory.   So your instincts about Lyra have proven to be true. It saddens me to hear that some people just live to take advantage of the gullibility and goodness of others. At least with the nobles and the fey you can see it coming. But you once again did the right thing in letting her go and returning the stolen property to the Ravensong family.   I know you are in no state to stay in Keralon or return to Amarra or your studies, but know that you are welcome here. I could always use someone to look after Bill and Bob (the goats) while I am in Lorewood for a few days. Over the past year the trouble with the fey has increased manifold.   The stories about Ulther have emboldened them and more and more are coming closer to the edge of the forest, causing all kinds of trouble. Luckily they tread carefully when they see my signs and wards. It also helps that a number of the draconians and kobolds front he Fenhunter’s army are still hanging around these parts too. Ever since I helped them after the battle, they have been grateful, and I can rely on them to help me if some fey gets too cocky.   Most of the dealings with the fey have been unremarkable except for one. I have included a drawing of a rune worn by one of them. Does that icy sylvan symbol look familiar to you? It should. I know your knowledge of the language is limited, but I am sure that this belongs to Vivienne, or at least someone close to her line!   Verris he called himself, slender elven boy with long white hair and an arrogant elegance to him. Hunting at the edges of the Lorewood, and not just for foraging, but also for fun. Because it was not just deer he was hunting. He had killed one of the villagers and injured several others, just for sport. The wounds were horrible. I have treated some arrow wounds before, but these were not just normal wounds, all of them had frostburn! And you know what that does if it isn’t treated immediately. Curse those monsters!   So I gathered some of my new allies, a draconian named Saphira and a kobold tracker named Zem. Together we tracked and hunted down Verris. It took several days to find him in the forest and we had to be careful, avoiding other fey in the vicinity. But finally we cornered him at a small lake. Usually I would offer the choice for him to return home and leave us be, but seeing that arrogant smirk on his face when we confronted him, I couldn’t help myself.   I cursed him, my evil eye sapping his resilience before Saphira charged in. Weakened by my magic, he didn’t stand a chance. I took this rune from him, but we left his head on a pike as a warning to others of his kind that these woods are off limits.   Since then the troubles have lessened a bit, but some of the fey are simply not intelligent enough to get the warning.   Either way, next time you pass this way, I will introduce you to Zem and Saphira. I am sure you will like them very much. And who knows, maybe Saphira is a more steadfast companion for you than Elsa, Emily or Kyra ever could have been. She has a bit more scales and a little less hair than a human woman though.   But you’d certainly have my approval!   Your loving sister,   Hayley

Letter to Luke 3

Oh you fool of a Thomas!   How have you managed to get yourself lured into a crossbow wedding? I swear that one of these days your craving for romance and companionship will be the end of you. At least this time it is not a noble who’ll discard you at the earliest opportunity.   This Lyra does sound like a nice person, and I look forward to meeting her (if we ever get that far), and I’ll do my best to remember the right name. I do urge you caution though, knowing it is futile and you’ll disregard my words and throw caution to the wind. As you already have the feeling something is off or wrong, listen to your instincts. Head them and be careful. Usually when we have the feeling there is something amiss, it turns out to be true.   Either way it sounds like you have had quite the adventure, even battling a dragon! Alistan would be jealous, maybe more than with regards to Elsa. Dragons are a nasty business and as you may have heard the Fenhunter has returned and had been gathering an army not too far from where I currently reside. Now the fight between two the king and this dragon is none of my business, but it disturbing the villages under my care is.   The entire thing cumulated into a large battle just north of here, the battle of the North Plains they call it. Needless to say, I have been very busy. Aside from my normal tasks, I have been giving aid to all the wounded soldiers who come here. And it is not only the king’s soldiers and knights who’ve required healing. I have, when foraging, also encountered wounded draconians and kobolds, remnants of the Fenhunter’s army. By and large they have avoided me, but to those who required aid, I have given it.   Together with the fey that now roam the Lorewood, it makes for an interesting mix of dangers. But they all tread carefully when Midnight comes.   Other than that my life is not as exciting as yours, not as much adventures, though I have taken on some quests to prove myself to the circles. Especially the Long Table is of interest for me as they at least are there to aid the common folk of the outer parts of town.   Dorr has taken up residence in Fishtown, which is as bad as it sounds, and is working as a stone mason more than as a mercenary. I’ve lost count of the number of times I had had to bail him out of prison for being drunk and disorderly, but he always offers me a place to stay when I am in Keralon.   The only other interesting piece of news I have of our former companions is that Edward moved back to Tarn at the end of last year. Elsa is still in Keralon, but apparently he was recalled. apparently he needed to run his family’s estate back home.   I hope that in your voyage to Keralon you stop by here, it would be lovely to host you and Kyra here for a few nights and catch up, before you move on to the city. I look very forward to having a wedding celebration with you and your bride! You certainly owe me that!   your loving sister,   Hayley

Letter to Luke 2

My dearest Luke,   Oh darling brother of mine, what mess have you gotten yourself into. At least I hope this will teach you the lesson to not trust nobles. I am sorry I never met Emily, but it sounds like it is a good thing it ended.   What is it with nobles and dealing with the fey? Is gaining power that important to them that they would risk everything for it? The story you told me, the one from the book (which I am sad you could not keep, i would have loved to borrow it from you), should have been warning enough how foolish it is to deal with them.   The fey are fickle and uncaring. Their deals ultimately only benefit themselves. I am happy to see that you remain steadfast in this knowledge and have not fallen for the temptation, even if that temptation comes with the pretty face of what seemed to be a lovely girl. I am proud of you brother of mine, for remaining steadfast.   What happened to you at the tournament is of course unjustified and it feels like they were merely looking for a scapegoat in order not to point a finger at the noble causing it. Does this remind you of a certain event that happened to us? Nobles are all the same, be it the De La Roosts, the Collins, or the Dumons. They only care for themselves and will throw people like us under the carriage if it suits them. If you wish I can curse their entire bloodline (just kidding, or maybe not)   I am sad to hear that you will be leaving Keralon and Caern Fussil for a while, but it is probably for the best. Travelling will clear your mind and make you forget about the things that transpired, and you will find your place elsewhere. I guess it means we won’t be meeting again for a while, and I will miss you sorely.   For my own account I have also left the city. The first few months after our last letter, I spent working in Canalside, doing the usual. I won’t bore you with the details, but save to say I’m becoming an expert in delivering babies and mending cuts and stabwounds.   A few months ago however, news came to the city that Mirabella, the witch overseeing the villages a few days northwest of Keralon had passed away, so I have now moved there to take her place and make sure the people have someone to look after them.   Did you know there is little difference between delivering a lamb and a human baby? Except the sheep generally manage on their own and are far less complicated? They are also far cuter when newborn. Fiachna is definitely happy to be out of the city for once. I will return to Keralon once in a blue moon to see if there is any news, and to stock up on some supplies, but aside from that, I don’t think I will see much of the city again for a while.   I must confess I will not miss the city much. Being out here in the fields on the edge of Lorewood is where I belong, not cramped up between walls. I have left a message to our former companions, Dorr, Alistan and Dadroz, to let them know where I am so that if they want to meet up, we can. But other than that, I am happy where I am. I might adopt a goat, or two. Just kidding, I already have.   Sadly I won’t be able to write as much as you do, seeing as supplies are limited. I will check in with Amarra when I have the chance, to see if there is more news about you, or the city mages.   Take care my brother, and know you can always come here.   I will be there for you, always.   your loving sister,   Hayley

Letter to Luke 1

Dear brother of mine,   I am always happy to hear from you, even though it is too few and too far in between. My hopes would have been that we could have stayed in touch more here in Keralon, but I am afraid our respective duties take up too much of our precious time.   So another beautiful girl has stolen your heart I see? For a while I thought you would have stuck to Elsa, but I guess you have seen as much of the Collins as I have over the past year. Though I must admit that in my case I have also been avoiding them, and nobles in general. Everything that happened on our trip to Keralon has taught me that nobles only care for one thing and one thing only, and that is their own privilege, and holding on to it as much as possible. So far I have seen no exception to it. And yes, you will say I sound bitter, but I know you share those feelings.   Either way, I wish you all the best with Emily, she sounds like a wonderful person and I hope to meet her some day (latest at your wedding). And of course I accept the honor of being your best man/sister/witch. There will be epic tales written about your stag night!   It also delights me to hear your studies are going reasonably well. Be patient my brother dear, I know you are eager and impatient at best, impetuous at worst. Your time will come and Keralon will know you as one of the greatest wizards to ever walk amongst them.   Alongside the letter I have included a package (which I’m going to guess you have already opened by now). Inside you will find some things that might be useful in dealing with your bullies Darius and Samuel. One is a shamble I have created for you, hang it up at Caern Fussil, it will ward you from any influence they might try over you. The other is a pendant I have crafted for you. Nobles of their ilk will certainly hear rumors, and rumors are there is a vengeful witch named Midnight roaming Keralon, who can curse you and your offspring with a single look. This is her symbol, and they might be wary to incur her wrath.   Now some news from my side. After handing over Liliana to her new owner, and you leaving for Caern Fussil, I have not had much contact with any of the others. Partially of my own volition, as mentioned before, and part because we are all so busy with our own lives. I had found an apprenticeship with an old witch named Greta, in Canalside, who has taught me quite a few interesting things, mainly on how to deal with the people there. Since then I have been very busy bandaging wounds, gathering herbs and making cures for all sorts of ailments, doing my rounds in helping and assisting people, helping with births, and holding wake over the dead.   My days are filled with tasks, and I usually have very little spare time. But it does come with some perks. A few months ago, Jacob, one of the regular guards of the southern gate, had a lovely baby boy, whom I helped deliver into this world. The mother of one of his fellow guards, a burly man by the name of Marcus, fell ill with a high fever a few weeks ago, and I sat by her bedside for days, keeping her fever down. It was a few long nights, fighting on the edge of a blade, but she pulled through. And a few more I have helped here and there, some sprains, cuts and bruises…and since then, I have had little trouble leaving and entering the city.   What spare time I have I have spent researching my dagger, and sending letters home, to mom and dad and to Terrin (also in the hopes for more information on the dagger). The rest of my research has gone into the feywild and how to possibly break that horrible deal. But not much luck there.   As for our travel companions, I have had no news of Liliana or Ileas, which was to be expected. I have avoided Alistan and the Collins as said before, and I guess they are very busy being nobles anyway. I did receive a letter from Gael though, in which he informed me that he had found Robert alive and well! At least that is some good news. No, from our companions the one I see the most is Dorr, I have managed to keep in touch with him, and whenever he is in town, back from one or other mercenary thing he does, we have food together and share tales.   But my life has become far more busy still over the last month, as old lady Greta passed away. So now I sort of run her cottage and take over her tasks, which keeps me busy. I also visit with the other alchemists and witches in and around the city, to learn more, as I am still only an apprentice after all. But I feel the people are starting to respect my presence, and maybe fear it a little too.   When I next have time to spare, I will make the trip to Caern Fussil and visit you and Amarra there. I would very much love to see more of you again. Your presence is very missed my darling brother.   Your loving sister,   Hayley

Entry 16: Keralon
15th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Dear diary,   Even this close to Keralon, within the comforting embrace of an inn, our night wasn’t as peaceful as we had hoped. In the early hours of the morning, we were stirred from our sleep by a commotion on the landing. The sharp scent of smoke filled my nostrils, and I rushed out to investigate.   Alistan had already found the source. In the room adjacent to theirs, someone had scrawled "Death to the usurper king" into the wall, the letters charred from fire. Alistan shared that the room belonged to the men we had noticed at dinner. They had been loud and disruptive earlier in the night, and Alistan had asked them to keep quiet. In retaliation, they must have burnt the message and fled.   The message puzzled us. Alistan explained that the kings had always come from one single lineage. Yet another mystery, but one we couldn't afford to dwell on now.   We alerted Brok, the innkeeper, of the damage, then went back to bed, hoping for a more restful end to the night.   Over breakfast, the discussion about what to do with our magic items heated up again. Liliana and Gael were keen on heading back to Caern Fussil to store their items there, even though that would cost us another day. Luke suggested hiding them somewhere, but that didn’t seem practical to me. Instead, I proposed asking Brok, the innkeeper, to keep them safe for us. Liliana approached him, and soon our items were stowed away safely in a box of potatoes.   With that settled, we finally set off for the gates of Keralon. I slipped my dagger into a small bag and handed it to Fiachna, who could fly it over the wall undetected while we walked through the gate.   The enormity of Keralon became apparent as we waited in line to enter through the main gate. Hillfield had seemed large, but compared to Keralon, it felt like a small hamlet. The sheer scale and noise of the city were overwhelming, and we barely noticed as the guards waved us through the gates.   Alistan spoke briefly with the guards, though they seemed rather annoyed by his questions. Meanwhile, Luke examined one of the buildings near the gate, and I found my gaze drawn to the sea of wagons and caravans gathered inside. In that short time, Liliana managed to get swept away by the crowd, but Dadroz and Alistan quickly found her.   With our group looking lost, a young street urchin approached us, offering to guide us through the city in exchange for a fee. Given our need for direction, Liliana paid her a silver coin, and we followed the girl into the city. As we walked, taking in the sights and marveling at the city's grandeur, Liliana and I noticed that the girl was leading us deeper into the winding alleys of Canalside. It seemed like she might have had ill intentions, possibly leading us into an ambush. When we confronted her, she attempted to flee, but I anticipated her move and quickly cast a spell to put her to sleep.   Alistan lifted the girl and gently roused her from her sleep. As she remained tight-lipped and hesitant to guide us safely, I cast another spell to compel her to lead us directly to the nearest guardhouse. With no choice but to obey, she led us along the canal in silence, and soon we stood before the guard barracks.   Seeing no need for all of us to crowd inside, I crossed the street to the bustling market. My intention was to explore the stalls and discover something exotic to eat while my companions dealt with the guards and informed them about the situation in Lorewood.   Once the meeting concluded and we gathered outside the barracks, it was time for the first round of goodbyes. Elsa and Edward gave us heartfelt hugs and handshakes, and I noticed a hint of sadness in my brother’s eyes as he bid Elsa farewell, as though he feared it might be the last time.   Next came Dorr, who announced his plan to find a place to stay and seek work in the city. As I embraced him, I encouraged him to stay in touch and keep us updated on his adventures. I feel I have grown quite fond of him.   We watched as our friends made their separate ways toward their new paths in life, leaving us to press on toward the temple district. As we approached, two massive structures caught our attention. On one side, the colossal cathedral of Belanos loomed majestically, its towering spires piercing the sky and outshining every other building in the city. On the other side, a dark and somber district beckoned, watched over by two guards dressed differently from the city watch. Liliana's quick inquiry revealed this as the mausoleum district, where the dead found their final rest.   Our aim in visiting the temple was to seek the restoration of our last companion's memories, but our efforts proved fruitless. The priest we spoke with could not offer the answers we sought, affirming what I had long suspected: neither a curse nor magic had caused his amnesia. Perhaps it was simply the trauma from the brutal attack he endured.   Nonetheless, he needed a name, and when we offered suggestions, Alistan suggested the name "Feyrin." Grateful for the help we'd provided him and with his new name in hand, Feyrin embraced this fresh start. He thanked us and accepted the priest's offer to guide him toward a new purpose and occupation.   With our previous tasks complete, we made our way toward the De La Roost mansion, with Alistan brimming with anticipation to show us his family's town house. As we approached, we spotted a light flickering through the windows, which struck me as odd. I expected a servant or a distant relative to be inside, but the reality was far different.   Upon entering, a woman with a bread knife and a wary dog met us, her eyes alight with suspicion. She demanded to know who we were and why we were intruding in her home. Liliana and Alistan's confusion deepened, and as we wished to avoid conflict, the guards and an administrator intervened.   After a lengthy explanation, it became clear that another noble family had petitioned the king for an exchange—trading their smaller home for the grand De La Roost mansion. There was little we could do about it, and Alistan seemed content to accept the situation as it was, even if it meant losing his family’s ancestral home.   With the keys exchanged, we made our way to the new address we'd been given. The rest of the day was spent tidying up our new residence and setting up the furniture, but at least we now had a base from which to start our next adventure. Though not the mansion Alistan had hoped for, it was a home nonetheless, and a place to forge a new future.   15th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 15: A trial by fire
14th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Dear diary,   The night at Caern Fussil passed quietly, giving us a much-needed break from our eventful journey. Over breakfast, Luke buzzed with excitement, sharing his conversation with Amarra from the evening before. She had performed a ritual on him that revealed his strong connection to the element of fire and the feywild. This surprised him since most people are linked to two elemental planes, not just one.   Intrigued by his experience, I agreed to undergo the ritual myself. My results weren’t surprising, revealing only a singular connection, in my case to the element of air. As I pondered the implications, Luke mentioned he’d been offered the opportunity to take the test of fire to join the tower as an apprentice. He asked for our help, and we eagerly agreed.   The test turned out to be less challenging than anticipated. In the first room, a puzzle awaited us, but we swiftly cracked it, opening the door to the next chamber. There, time was not on our side, as lava began to creep into the room. I quickly rearranged the ice crystals to block the flow while Luke blasted the frozen doorway with his fire magic. With teamwork, we passed the test in no time.   Amarra seemed pleased with our performance during the test, and Luke was clearly elated. He said he’d consider returning to Caern Fussil as an apprentice, especially given his strong connection to fire magic. As a token of appreciation, Amarra gifted him a few scrolls.   Well-rested, with full stomachs and the success of the test lifting our spirits, we set off toward Keralon. The journey took most of the day, and as we neared the city, the road grew increasingly busy. I’d never seen so many people in one place, and we weren’t even inside the city walls yet!   With the sun dipping toward the horizon, we decided to stay the night at an inn, unable to reach the gates before dark. Elsa and Edward, worn out from the long walk, lagged behind, clearly missing the comfort of their cozy carriage.   The inn we chose, the Southroad Tavern, was a bustling place filled with travelers. Brok, the innkeeper, greeted us warmly, especially after we booked all his available rooms. The price was steep, but I’d expected nothing less this close to Keralon.   As we savored dinner and a complementary slice of cake for dessert, our attention was drawn to a group of men at the next table. They whispered furtively, their voices low, as they studied a flyer. Curious, I sent Fiachna to eavesdrop, but the best she could glean was that the men were discussing something about the Freehold Guild. The mention of a guild was alarming, considering that any such organization had been banned here since the revolt against the crown a hundred years ago. The crown's crackdown on guilds and magical items was well-known.   We decided not to meddle in their affairs, choosing instead to focus on our own quandary: how to manage our magical items within Keralon, where they were strictly prohibited. The group debated various options, but I kept quiet, as my intention was to keep my dagger, regardless of the rules.   Unable to reach a firm conclusion, we called it a night, determined to rise early the next morning and finally reach our destination. Keralon awaited us.   14th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 14: A golden cage and fiery tower
13th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Dear diary,   The final defeat of Cornu and the chance to rest in warm, cozy beds granted us a much-needed reprieve. Even though the Lorewood remained cloaked in a heavy mist, the eerie howls of wolves had faded away, retreating along with the hunter's fall.   Over a hearty breakfast Farrah offered us answers to our many questions. We inquired if anything could be done for poor Onvyr, but she shook her head with regret, explaining that the powerful magic needed to reverse his petrification was beyond the abilities of their camp. Still, she shared a glimmer of hope: patrols from Keralon, consisting of brave knights and skilled clerics, traveled through the area regularly and might be able to help. Though the decision weighed heavy on our hearts, we agreed that leaving Onvyr in Logvale was our best option for his survival and a hopeful reunion in the future.   With Edward and Alistan still weak and recovering, we decided it was best to rest for another day within the safety of Logvale's protective walls. Elsa and Liliana busied themselves fussing over their respective brothers, while others took the time to explore the camp or simply rest their bodies. As for me, I found solace in the work of a witch. I went around the camp, lending a hand where needed—bandaging wounds, mending clothes, preparing meals, gathering herbs. Keeping busy helped keep my mind at ease.   As the midday sun peeked through the heavy canopy, Liliana came rushing towards us, her face alight with excitement. "You have to see this!" she exclaimed, pulling us along towards the back of the camp. She led us to a small pond, or rather a puddle tucked behind some buildings.   What we saw took us all by surprise. The puddle's surface had frozen over, and beneath the ice, a familiar sylvan rune shimmered with an ethereal, icy blue light. The sight sent chills down my spine—not from the cold, but from the familiarity of the glowing rune.   As we knelt to examine it closer, we noticed something even more extraordinary. At the bottom of the iced-over pond lay a hatch. Carefully breaking away the ice, we managed to open it, revealing a tunnel that led first downwards and then off into the unknown.   I could sense the others' eagerness to rush headlong into the dark passage like headless chickens, but I held them back, urging caution. I had to inform Farrah of our discovery and our intention to investigate. Dorr, our dwarf companion, looked disappointed that we didn't immediately fetch him after having discovered the tunnel. After all, dwarves excel in navigating underground terrain.   In hindsight, I should have considered Dorr’s eagerness more, not just because of his skills, but because he had proven to be a reliable companion throughout our journey. I made a mental note to stay in touch with him once we reached Keralon, as our travels had brought us closer.   But I digress.   With Dorr, Elsa, and Edward joining us, we ventured into the tunnel, leaving behind the warmth and safety of Logvale. Dorr, after studying the smooth, polished walls, confirmed that the passage must have been forged with magic long ago, perhaps from the time before the settlement became known as Logvale.   We walked through the dim, claustrophobic tunnel for what felt like hours. The air grew colder with each step, and the silence pressed in around us. Just when the tight passage became almost unbearable, the tunnel opened up into a vast cave mouth that led us out into a narrow valley nestled between two looming hills.   Beyond the cave lay a partially frozen lake, its surface glinting with patches of ice. As we approached the lake, we noticed a stone archway standing at the edge, marking the conclusion of a circle of ancient menhirs. The runes carved into the stones flared to life in our presence, shimmering with cold blue light, as flames of the same hue ignited on either side of the archway. As if in response to our approach, the gateway activated, and snow drifted through the open passage.   A figure emerged from the drifting snow—a woman, her silhouette unmistakable. She walked toward us with unhurried grace, and my heart quickened. This encounter promised to reveal more mysteries, perhaps answers to the questions that had haunted us since the journey began.   As she approached, her presence dominated the space like an ice storm, serene and menacing. She moved with a languid grace, her long, flowing white hair glistening like snow under the cold blue flames of the gate. To call her beautiful would be an understatement, but it was the unsettling beauty of the fey—dangerous, distant, and captivating.   She spoke in a light, friendly manner, her voice carrying a hint of a melody that enchanted the ears. Yet beneath the surface, her tone held an amused condescending edge, like she was indulging us with her answers rather than respecting our questions. Her gaze seemed to take us in with a glance of mild interest, her posture casual yet calculated.   As the icy queen answered our inquiries, she moved effortlessly among us, brushing her slender fingers against each of us in turn. I stepped back when she reached out to touch me, but she merely smiled, seemingly amused rather than offended by my resistance.   When she reached Liliana, her manner changed slightly. She paused, regarding her with a different, perhaps more curious expression. Liliana, drawn in by Vivienne's ethereal beauty and allure, appeared almost mesmerized. The connection between them was palpable, and I could sense Liliana's immediate infatuation, the young girl enraptured by Vivienne's otherworldly charm.   She introduced herself as Vivienne, an enemy of Cornu and an ally of sorts to us. But it became clear she was there not out of pure goodwill, but rather to safeguard her own interests. She revealed she had been offered the service of Liliana as her pet bodyguard, a pact made with her liege, Ulther, though the specifics were left unexplained.   Luke's inquisitiveness took hold, as he pressed Vivienne with questions about Ulther and the arrangement, but she remained nonchalant, her answers vague. Alistan then proposed a private discussion to decide our course of action, the group splitting between wanting to find Robert and the desire to head straight to Keralon using Vivienne's gate.   Alistan, Gael, and I leaned towards another attempt to locate Robert, but Luke, Dadroz, and Ileas were in favor of reaching Keralon as soon as possible. Liliana, already swayed by Vivienne's allure, seemed keen on accepting her new role as the queen’s slave, which ultimately tipped the decision in favor of using the gate.   With our course settled, we headed back through the tunnel to gather our belongings in Logvale. Liliana remained behind, drawn to Vivienne's side, eager to embrace her new path. Luke stayed with them, naturally unable to resist the chance to delve deeper into Vivienne's world and uncover any hidden knowledge. I wasn't surprised by his choice; his curiosity often led him down unexpected paths. But I knew whatever he learned would prove valuable later on.   As we walked, the memory of Vivienne's chilling demeanor lingered in my mind. I kept recalling her instructions not to reveal anything about the hidden passage to the villagers of Logvale. Maybe she fears the knights of Keralon. But I was so baffled with the eagerness by which Liliana accepted her fate, that I didn’t even consider breaking that promise. Maybe I should have.   Once we returned to Logvale, our first task was gathering our belongings. Gael and Alistan took charge of explaining our abrupt plans to Farrah. Gael suggested she block the tunnel entrance after we’d left, though neither he nor Alistan could give her a proper reason why. It was a strange compromise, but perhaps it was best to leave the choice up to Farrah.   We said our farewells to Farrah and the other villagers. The thought of leaving Robert behind without searching for him weighed heavily on my heart. Gael’s somber expression showed me he shared my pain. Still, we had little choice but to carry on. As we walked back through the tunnel, I kept my gaze on the shadows ahead, trying to focus on the journey to rejoin Luke and Liliana. With each step, the uncertainty of our choices lingered. My heart ached for the lives we’d left behind, but our path lay ahead, whether we liked it or not.   As we returned to the valley, Vivienne rose gracefully and activated the gate. True to her word, the gateway opened to a location closer to Keralon, though still a day's journey away. This shortcut would save us weeks of travel. Liliana exchanged farewells with Vivienne, then joined us. As the gate closed behind us, Liliana proudly displayed a new, ornate sword to her brother—an apparent parting gift from her new master. While the sword is most definitely beautiful, I couldn’t help but wonder how easily pretty trinkets and a golden cage seem to make forced servitude that much more bearable.   I chose not to comment, avoiding yet another fruitless debate, and instead focused on our new surroundings. We still stood on the edge of Lorewood, but the eerie mist had not followed us this far. A small relief, but a sign of better things to come. With a last glance at Lorewood, we turned away and set our sights on Keralon. The road ahead was uncertain, but we had each other, and that, at least, was a comfort.   It took us hours to reach a decent road, and by then, night had already fallen. We were just about to make camp when Gael, Dadroz, and Alistan pointed to a column of smoke beyond the trees up ahead. A large campfire, perhaps? But as we walked closer, the sounds of battle grew louder with every step.   The trees gave way to a clearing, and in the center, a blackened tower stood tall, its walls adorned with rows of gargoyles. The ground between the wall and the encircling braziers had been scorched repeatedly.   A woman with flowing auburn hair, clad in wizard robes, fought off an armored figure and two pixies. The fey turned their attention to us, one aiming a spell at Alistan but Gael’s sharp aim took it down with a blunted arrow to the head. The other summoned roots and brambles, engulfing and trapping us momentarily. Luke, with a blast of energy, obliterated the remaining fey, making the roots retreat.   Maybe it's time to teach my brother some temperance—he's always been the more volatile one between us.   The golden warrior with blazing blue eyes, which turned out to be a construct, took a bit more effort to bring down. But with Liliana wielding her new sword, Gael using his magical bow, and the fiery spells of our new friend, Amarra the wizard, we managed to defeat it.   As Amarra inspected the remains of the construct, I turned my attention to the unconscious pixie. I carefully revived her, warning her not to act rashly. She seemed bewildered by the situation and claimed to have no memory of the fight. According to her, she and her sister had been traveling in the feywild when a thick fog enveloped them. The next thing she knew, she was on our plane and being revived by me.   It seems she had been caught in the mist that had been plaguing our realm, a sad twist of fate that brought her to this battle. Her confusion was genuine, and her story tugged at my heart. As she left to find her way back to Lorewood and, hopefully, her home, I couldn't help but feel for her misfortune and the loss of her sister.   Amarra couldn't shed light either on who sent the attackers, but she did point out the targeted nature of the attack, mentioning the construct’s resistance to fire. In return for our help, she welcomed us into Caern Fussil, the wizard tower linked to the elemental plane of fire, offering food and lodging for the night.   While Luke rushed off to explore the tower’s library, I set about preparing a meal. Meanwhile, Alistan engaged in a conversation with Amarra about Keralon.   She warned us about the city’s strict rules regarding magic items—only knights are allowed to carry them. She advised us to enter through the hunter’s gate instead of the main gate to avoid heavy surveillance. She also shared information about Keralon’s current state—guilds have been outlawed, life has become expensive, and it’s become harder to find apprenticeships.   After that, Amarra left to speak with Luke while I retreated to my room, grateful for the opportunity to rest after a long journey.   13th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 13: the price of safety
12th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Dear Diary,   As I write this, a wave of frustration washes over me. My plans and intentions have crumbled, and I can't help but feel a tinge of anger toward myself. Despite promising to stay behind and search for Robert and Gael, I might have to abandon that plan. Gael has rejoined us, and I'll share more about that later, but Robert is still missing. The thought of leaving him behind without even attempting to find him weighs heavily on me.   After the chaotic night and minimal rest, we pressed on in the morning. We were all worn down from the relentless fighting and fleeing, with some still nursing injuries. Our sleep-deprived state hindered our ability to regain our magic, leaving us with no chance for solace until we reach safety.   We used the Tarnstones to get in touch with Gael, and to our relief, he was safe and had met up with Sylvesse. He promised to catch up with us later. At least the day started with some good news. The rest of the day also felt smoother, lifting our spirits as it went on. The mist still lingered, as did the haunting howls of wolves, reminding us that Cornu was still on the prowl. But we started to see signs of logging activity—the road was in better shape, and old campsites dotted the landscape.   Shortly after midday, we noticed a secondary path branching off from the main road. Although it headed in the wrong direction, it caught our attention. Several trees along the path bore bright blue runes, resembling shimmering ice. They were marked with the Sylvan rune for safety. Luke noted that while the path looked brand new, there was no sign of logging, so it likely wasn’t created by the people of Logvale. The thought crossed my mind that it could be a trap, so I sent Fiachna to scout the path ahead. She returned to report that the path continued for a long stretch, marked clearly with the runes, but nothing else out of the ordinary.   The promise of a safe passage was too tempting to ignore, even though it might have been a trap. Not all the fey creatures in this forest were our enemies, so we chose to take the risk. As we walked down the path, the air grew chillier, and the distant howling of wolves faded until there were no animal sounds at all. Apart from the cold, the journey was peaceful and quiet.   As dusk started to fall, the path merged with a larger road that we recognized as the main road we had initially left behind. My dear brother was quick to point out the impossibility of this, as the road couldn't have curved back on itself.   The only explanation I could offer was that this path marked with Sylvan runes was a secret gateway through the Feywild, bending the natural rules of our world and leading us back to the main road. The layers between the Feywild and our world are thin here. My suspicion was confirmed when I saw a signpost further down the road indicating Logvale was now only two hours away, instead of the three days it would have taken us otherwise. It seemed we had taken a shortcut through the mysterious realms of the Feywild, finding safe passage in a way we had not anticipated.   Eager to reach Logvale and the promise of warm meals and comfortable beds, we pushed on with renewed energy. But safety was not yet within easy reach. As we approached the village, we were met with an extraordinary sight. The palisades were lined with glowing runes of bright red and orange, burning away the mystical fog that had enveloped the village. It was hard to believe a small logging village would possess such potent warding magic, but given the recent chaos, perhaps it was a wise precaution.   As we neared the gates, signs of recent fighting became evident—scattered bodies and trampled ground marked the scene. Before we could question what had transpired, we were surrounded by a pack of two-headed wolves. Then, Cornu emerged from the shadows, blocking our way to the gate. His expression darkened with disappointment as he realized Gael was not with us, clearly having expected him to rejoin us sooner after his daring escape.   Just as the tension peaked, the gates of Logvale swung open, and a woman stepped through, wielding a holy symbol with authority. She urged us to enter the conclave, assuring us it was warded against the fey.   The wolves charged in from all sides, and a mad scramble for safety ensued. Edward and Liliana confronted Cornu in close combat to buy us time. I found myself locked in battle at Dorr’s side, fending off one of the wolves while the others rushed toward the gate. But just when it seemed the odds were stacked against us, Gael and Sylvesse burst from the forest, joining the fray and turning the tide in our favor.   Despite Liliana’s efforts to shield him, Edward was struck down, but his sister managed to save him with her last reserves of magic. Dorr and I defeated one of the wolves while another fell victim to our horses’ hooves. The two remaining wolves were occupied by Sylvesse, and it seemed for the first time in a while that victory might be within our grasp.   The clash at the gates of Logvale took a darker turn than any of us could have anticipated. Cornu's assault on Liliana and Alistan was swift and brutal, and as they fell, it was all Elsa and Edward could do to stabilize them. I ordered Dorr to carry them inside the safety of Logvale as I unleashed a barrage of spells on the remaining wolves, hoping to give Sylvesse the advantage.   Yet the tragedy deepened when one of the wolves lunged for Sylvesse’s throat, bringing the noble protector to his knees. As Sylvesse crumbled to the ground, the other wolf sealed his fate, leaving no hope of saving him.   Though Sylvesse’s sacrifice bought us precious moments to reach safety, the cost was dear. I could see the pain in Gael’s eyes at the loss of his friend and mentor, a pain I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. It made me think of my own mentor, Terrin, and how devastating it would be to lose him like this. I longed to offer Gael comfort, but there were pressing matters that needed our immediate attention.   Farrah, the formidable leader of Logvale, took charge as soon as we crossed into the safety of the village. I quickly filled her in on our situation, recounting the recent events in Lorewood and our desperate battle with Cornu and his wolves. Farrah confirmed our fears—Logvale had also been suffering under the strange mist and attacks from the Dianios. But the arcane runes that protected Logvale kept the town safe from anything extraplanar. She mentioned that they didn’t know the origins of the magic—Logvale had been settled long before it became a logging camp.   Despite the limited beds available at the inn, Farrah generously offered us whatever comfort she could provide. To avoid arguments, I made the decision to give the beds to those who needed them most: Elsa, Alistan, and Edward. The rest of us had to let fate decide who would sleep on the floor. As for me, I had already volunteered to take a spot by the fire, and fate chose Liliana to keep me company.   Gael, still wrestling with his emotions over Sylvesse’s death, decided to spend the night outside alone. I hugged him tightly before he left, trying to offer some solace to my dear friend in his time of grief. As the evening settled, I found myself reflecting on the mysteries of Lorewood and the challenges that still lay ahead.   You'd think reaching the safety of Logvale would mark the end of our troubles. The village's arcane defenses seemed impenetrable, promising warm meals, soft beds, and the comfort of a roof overhead. But the peace was short-lived. Just as the first light of dawn broke, a cry of alarm from Gael rang out. We rushed outside, only to find Gael on the ground, struck down by an arrow, and Cornu standing inside Logvale. Somehow, the relentless hunter had slipped past the village's magical barriers.   But this time, the odds were in our favor. Cornu was alone and outnumbered, still bearing the wounds and exhaustion of previous fights, while we had rested and recovered. Ileas healed Gael, and before most of us could even join the fight, Gael grabbed his bow. Guided by his fury over losing Sylvesse and the mysterious golden light shining from Cornu's packs, he aimed true and shot an arrow into Cornu's only remaining eye.   Just like that, it was over. The two harrowing days of combat and being hunted by Cornu had finally come to an end. Gael approached Cornu's pack, drawn by the golden light emanating from it. As he opened it, he discovered Sylvesse's cut-off golden antlers, still glowing with an otherworldly light.   Gael's intent was to bury the antlers as a final farewell to his fallen friend. But as soon as he touched them, they began to melt into pure gold, transforming into a magnificent bow. It was a final gift from Sylvesse to his beloved ward, a symbol of their unbreakable bond and the courage they had shown together.   12th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Hayley's rules to being a Witch

Always face your fear.   Have just enough money, never too much, and some string.   Even if it's not your fault, it's your responsibility.   Witches deal with things.   Never stand between two mirrors.   Never cackle.   Do what you must do.   Never lie, but you don't always have to be honest.   Never wish.   Especially don't wish upon a star, which is astronomically stupid.   Open your eyes, and then open your eyes again.

Entry 12: Loss and despair
11th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Dear Diary,   As I sit here, my back pressed against the sturdy trunk of a tree, the flickering light of our campfire casting dancing shadows around me, I find myself reflecting on the events of the day. It's the dead of night, and we've been on the move, seeking refuge wherever we can find it. But before I delve into the chaos that ensued, let me start from the beginning.   The day dawned with promise, the remnants of a restful night's sleep still clinging to my weary bones. Thanks to the warmth and comfort of Robert's carriage, I awoke feeling rejuvenated, my spirits lifted by the prospect of a new day. Stepping out into the crisp morning air, a sense of renewed vitality coursed through my veins, dispelling the lingering shadows of illness that had plagued me in recent days.   Yet, as I emerged from the shelter of the carriage, my eyes fell upon my dagger, its blade aglow with an ethereal light. Strange runes, previously unseen, now adorned its surface, pulsating with an otherworldly energy. With a sense of urgency, I sought out Luke, only to find him in equally high spirits and robust health. It seemed that whatever malady had befallen us was now replaced by a newfound strength, inexplicably linked to the both of us.   Though the cause of this sudden change remained a mystery, I couldn't deny the sense of hope that blossomed within me. Perhaps, just perhaps, our journey held more promise than peril. Little did I know, however, that the challenges we would face in the hours to come would test our newfound resilience in ways we never could have imagined.   With Luke's keen insight and expertise, we pondered over the newfound properties of the dagger, its connection to the enigmatic realm of the Feywild sparking curiosity and intrigue within us. Though the full extent of its powers remained shrouded in mystery, I was determined to uncover its secrets in due time.   As we joined the others for breakfast, our attention turned to the young man we had encountered on our journey, his presence a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked within the forest. Though he appeared more at ease now, his memories of the attack were still shrouded in fog, leaving us with more questions than answers.   According to him, their group, amongst whom his young wife, had been ambushed by small goblin-like creatures with wild green hair. I couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gripped me as I recalled the tragic fate of the young woman we had buried the night before. It was clear that we would have to deliver the grim news to him, a task that weighed heavily on my heart.   As we prepared to resume our journey, Gael's words about the strange occurrences surrounding Luke and me echoed in my mind. Initially dismissive of his claims, I couldn't ignore the subtle anomalies that seemed to manifest in our presence. Fire danced more vividly in Luke's proximity, while plants responded to my touch with unusual vigor or withering.   Though the true nature of these phenomena remained a mystery, I couldn't shake the feeling that they were somehow connected to the changes we had experienced since our illness. Perhaps they were manifestations of our evolving magic, influenced by the paths we were destined to tread. Yet, frustratingly, they eluded our control, leaving us to navigate this newfound power with uncertainty.   Despite these uncertainties, we set out with renewed determination, the promise of discovery spurring us onward. However, our optimism was short-lived as chaos descended upon us once more.   In the stillness of the afternoon, a cry of alarm shattered the tranquility, signaling the onset of danger. With startling swiftness, a horde of small creatures, resembling a twisted fusion of goat and goblin, emerged from the depths of the forest. Their wild green hair danced in the breeze as they launched a relentless assault on our caravan, raining down spears upon our hapless horses with ruthless precision.   Caught off guard by the sudden onslaught, we scrambled to defend ourselves, our hearts pounding with adrenaline as we braced for the fight ahead. In the face of this unexpected threat, our unity would be our greatest strength, as we stood together against the tide of chaos that threatened to engulf us. Little did we know, this skirmish would be but the beginning of a much larger battle, one that would test the limits of our courage and resolve.   As the chaos of battle unfolded around us, my senses sharpened with a surge of recognition. These creatures, the Dianios, were notorious denizens of the Feywild – small, goat-like fey known for their ferocity and malevolence. It was unprecedented for them to venture beyond the borders of their realm, let alone into the depths of Lorewood. Their presence here only deepened the mystery of the forest's strange afflictions.   The skirmish that ensued was brutal and unforgiving, our small band of travelers outnumbered and overwhelmed by the relentless onslaught. Faced with attacks from all sides, we fought tooth and nail to defend our caravan, but the cost was steep. When the dust finally settled, the grim reality of our losses weighed heavily upon us – three of our noble steeds lay slain, their lifeless forms a somber reminder of the price of our intrusion into the Feywild's territory.   With the remaining Dianios subdued and taken captive, Liliana stepped forward, her divine charm weaving a spell of intimidation over the fey creatures. Under the threat of divine retribution, they begrudgingly revealed the truth behind their attack. According to them, we had trespassed into their domain, making me think the boundaries between worlds have been weakened by the mysterious fog that blankets the forest. In their eyes, we were intruders, and they had reacted with ferocity to defend their homeland.   As the tension in the air thickened with the howl of a distant wolf, the captive Dianios grew restless, their struggles intensifying as the primal sound echoed through the forest. Before long, our fears were realized as a formidable creature emerged from the shadows – a yeth hound, its lupine form adorned with a grotesque, human-like visage.   With a predatory grace, the yeth hound circled us, its gaze fixed intently upon Gael. A primal instinct warned us of the danger that lurked within its feral eyes, and as it unleashed another bone-chilling howl, the air crackled with anticipation. With a swift charge, the yeth hound descended upon us, its monstrous form brimming with malevolent intent.   In the face of this formidable foe, our options were limited. With the yeth hound's immunity to conventional weapons, our only hope lay in the magic that coursed through our veins. With determination blazing in my heart, I lunged forward, my magical dagger held aloft, ready to confront the beast head-on. It was a risky gambit, but in the heat of the moment, there was no room for hesitation.   As the clash of steel and fang reverberated through the forest, I found myself locked in a deadly dance with the yeth hound, its savage ferocity matched only by my own resolve. With every strike, I sought to pierce its supernatural defenses, my every move fueled by a desperate determination to protect my comrades and emerge victorious against the looming threat.   The chaos of battle erupted into a frenzy as another figure emerged from the shadows, a malevolent smirk playing across his features. His name, we would later learn, was Cornu. With a cruel laugh, he unleashed a petrifying arrow, aimed with deadly accuracy at Onvyr, one of our own.   In the midst of the ensuing melee, the tide of battle turned against us, our valiant efforts met with fierce resistance from our otherworldly adversaries. Despite our best efforts, many of us fell to the onslaught, the ferocity of our opponents proving to be more than we could handle. It was only through the timely intervention of Liliana, that I did not suffer a worse fate than the lingering pain in my leg, the memory of the yeth hound's vicious attack still fresh in my mind.   In the end, it was Sylvesse, our steadfast guardian, who came to our rescue, its noble form standing tall against the darkness that threatened to consume us. With a fierce determination, it faced off against Cornu and his monstrous hound, a beacon of hope in our darkest hour. Yet, as we fled to safety, the fate of our noble protector remained uncertain, lost to the shadows as we made our hasty escape.   A sense of disorientation gripped some of my companions, their fear overwhelming their sense of direction as they fled into the dense fog without a second thought. In the ensuing confusion, it fell to Gael and me to locate them amidst the swirling mists, a task made all the more challenging by the opaque veil that obscured our surroundings.   After what felt like an eternity of searching, we finally reunited with our wayward comrades, their expressions a mixture of relief and trepidation. Though my initial impulse was to lash out in frustration at their reckless actions, I knew that anger would only serve to further fracture our already fragile unity. Instead, I sternly admonished them for their heedless flight, a harsh reminder of the dangers that lurked within the forest.   Yet, beneath my outward display of authority, a sense of unease gnawed at my insides. The absence of Robert, the uncertainty surrounding Sylvesse's fate, and Onvyr's petrified form weighed heavily upon my mind, casting a pall of despair over our ragtag band of survivors. The thought of leaving our companions behind, lost to the depths of Lorewood, filled me with a profound sense of unease, a nagging voice urging me to take action.   With a heavy heart, I urged my companions to rest, knowing that we would need all of our strength and resolve for the trials that lay ahead. And as we retraced our steps back to the safety of our abandoned caravan, I turned to Gael, hoping that he might shed some light on the enigmatic figure of Cornu and his monstrous hound. Yet, to my dismay, he too was as clueless as the rest of us, the mystery of our assailants' motives remaining frustratingly elusive.   After a brief respite, I led our weary band back to the abandoned caravan, my heart heavy with apprehension at what we might find. Yet, as we approached the desolate site, a profound sense of emptiness greeted us – no sign of Cornu, no trace of Sylvesse or Robert. Only the eerie silence of the forest enveloped us, a haunting reminder of the mysteries that lurked within its depths.   My first priority was to attempt to lift the curse that had befallen Onvyr, but to my dismay, my fledgling magic proved insufficient to break its hold. Though I strained against its arcane bonds, the curse remained stubbornly resilient, a frustrating testament to my limitations as a young witch.   With heavy hearts, we set about scouring the area for any sign of our missing companions, but our efforts proved fruitless. Robert's tracks vanished into the undergrowth, and Sylvesse was nowhere to be found. The only solace we could find was in the return of Torrin.   With our number of horses depleted we decided to press onward to Logvale with only a single cart and what supplies it could carry. I sent Fiachna to scout back along the road, hoping against hope that he might find some clue to Robert's whereabouts. Our journey was far from over, and as night fell and we made camp amidst the ruins of an ancient structure, I offered what little comfort I could to Elsa, hoping to provide some semblance of solace with a place in my tent. Yet, even as we settled in for the night, the tranquility of our makeshift camp was shattered by the sudden onslaught of another attack.   The cursed Dianios descended upon us once more, their malevolent presence a grim reminder of the dangers that lurked within the forest. Though we fought valiantly to repel their assault, our victory was short-lived, for the sound of battle had once again drawn the attention of our elusive foe – Cornu, the sinister fey whose shadow loomed large over our troubled journey.   With a silent nod of understanding, Liliana and I exchanged a determined glance, our resolve steeling against the encroaching darkness. If Cornu could track us with such ease, then there was no escaping his relentless pursuit. It was time to confront him, to end this deadly game once and for all.   But as we prepared to make our stand, a sudden act of bravery and selflessness caught us off guard. Gael taunted Cornu with reckless abandon, his daring gambit aimed at diverting the fey's attention away from us and towards himself. With a defiant shout, he disappeared into the depths of the forest, a lone figure disappearing into the shadows.   Though his actions took us by surprise, I couldn't help but admire Gael's courage in the face of overwhelming odds. Yet, as Luke and Alistan charged after Cornu in a desperate bid to aid our comrade, I knew that we could not let them face this peril alone.   With a sense of urgency, Liliana and I followed in their wake. And good that we did, as we stumbled upon our fallen comrades, bruised and battered from their encounter with Cornu. There was little hope of finding Gael or Cornu amidst the tangled undergrowth of the forest, and so, with heavy hearts and reluctant steps, we made the agonizing decision to press onward. It pained me to leave our friends behind, to abandon them to the mercy of the forest's cruel embrace, but I knew that our journey was far from over.   Though I have yet to share my intentions with my companions, I am resolved to stay behind and search for Gael and Robert, no matter the cost. Even as I anticipate Luke's disapproval, I know that this is a path I must walk alone. For the bond between us is strong, but my duty to my friends compels me to act, to seek out those who have been lost to the darkness and bring them back into the light.   11th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 11: Cursed twins
10th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Dear diary,     On the evening of the 10th of Lug, I find solace within the confines of Robert's wagon, grateful for the respite he has graciously offered. The enigmatic bard's kindness knows no bounds, especially as I have been plagued by a wretched illness for the past two days.   The morning following our first night of camp, I awoke to a gnawing sensation in my stomach and a relentless pounding in my head. To compound matters, a thick, suffocating fog had descended upon the forest overnight, enveloping us in its clammy embrace. As we gathered for breakfast, it became apparent that Luke was also suffering, his complexion as pallid as the mist that veiled our surroundings. While the others appeared unaffected, my mind couldn't help but return to the foreboding verses of the poem. Was there a sinister force at play, targeting the two of us? Could this mysterious mist be the harbinger of some malevolent influence, its tendrils ensnaring us in its grasp?   Feeling utterly miserable without the ability to wield magic against the illness that plagued us, I found myself immensely grateful for Liliana's expertise in the divine arts. With her swift intervention, she offered some semblance of relief from whatever malady had befallen us.   With our spirits lifted ever so slightly, we resumed our journey through the dense forest, the oppressive mist surrounding us like a suffocating cloak. Wrapped snugly in my blanket atop the cart, lost in contemplation, I was jolted from my reverie by a sudden cry of alarm echoing from the rear of the caravan.   Hurrying to investigate, we were met with a scene of chaos as a massive owlbear burst forth from the undergrowth, its eyes ablaze with fury, foam dripping from its beak and matting its fur.   The enraged owlbear charged toward Ileas and Liliana, who stood steadfast in defense at the rear of their wagon. Recognizing the imminent danger posed by these formidable creatures, I knew swift action was necessary. With determination coursing through my veins, I unleashed a spell, lulling the owlbear into a deep magical slumber.   As the tension eased, I approached the slumbering beast, my concern shifting from immediate threat to the creature's well-being. Upon closer examination, it became evident that the owlbear was not afflicted with the same mysterious illness that had plagued the wildlife in Tarn. Instead, its wounds bore witness to a recent skirmish, fresh blood staining its fur.   We deliberated briefly on what course of action to take, wary of the consequences of disturbing the creature's rest. Ultimately, we opted to leave it undisturbed, hoping it would awaken unharmed and choose to retreat back into the safety of the woods. To our relief, when the owlbear eventually roused from its enchanted slumber, it chose to flee into the depths of the forest rather than pursue us further. A sense of pride swelled within me at having spared its life, recognizing that despite their origins in dark magic, these creatures had become an integral part of the natural world and deserved a chance to live free from harm.   As the hours dragged on, a familiar sense of illness began to creep over my brother and me once more. Suspicions gnawed at my mind, and I couldn't shake the feeling that the unnatural fog shrouding us held some malevolent intent, targeting Luke and me specifically.   Summoning what little strength he had left, Luke attempted to use his magic to probe the mist for answers. I watched with a heavy heart as he struggled against the oppressive weight of his fatigue, yet his efforts confirmed my fears – the fog was indeed imbued with magical energy.   With little recourse available to us, I brewed a concoction from the herbs I had on hand, hoping to alleviate our symptoms and provide some measure of relief. Sinking back into the warmth of my blankets, I prayed that an early evening and a restful night's sleep would offer respite from the relentless onslaught of sickness that plagued us.     9th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree   As the night dragged on, my condition only worsened, leaving me feeling more debilitated than ever before. A deep sense of longing washed over me as I yearned for the comforting presence of Terrin, the grumpy old hobgoblin whose wisdom and guidance I sorely missed.   With trembling limbs, I staggered out of the cart and collapsed onto the forest floor, clutching my blanket tightly around me in a feeble attempt to ward off the chill. My suggestion that the oppressive fog might be the source of our affliction met with little enthusiasm from my companions, their spirits dampened by the relentless mist that enveloped us.   Even the typically adventurous souls of Liliana and Alistan seemed subdued in the face of the fog's suffocating grip. Frustrated and desperate for a solution, I considered using Fiachna to investigate the extent of the mist, but the mere thought of shifting my vision to my faithful raven sent waves of agony coursing through my head.   In the end, I sent Fiachna alone to survey the fog's boundaries. She returned swiftly with news that the fog stretched from horizon to horizon, its reach extending as far as the eye could see. It was a disheartening revelation, leaving us feeling trapped and helpless within its murky confines, with no clear path out in sight.   As a sense of despair began to settle over our weary hearts and minds, Gael, emboldened by a newfound resolve, stepped forward and boldly called out for whoever was responsible for our misery to reveal themselves. I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at his courageous stance – perhaps my own usual boldness was rubbing off on him.   To our surprise, it was not some malevolent spirit of the forest that emerged from the thick veil of fog, but rather Sylvesse, the majestic protector of the woods. Seizing the opportunity, I swiftly explained our predicament and my suspicions regarding the nature of the fog. While Sylvesse lamented his lack of magical ability to counter the enchantment, his insights proved invaluable. He confirmed that the fog was indeed magical, likely the result of some fey enchantment or curse.   Oddly enough, this revelation actually lifted my spirits, as I realized I possessed the means to combat curses through my brews and elixirs. As I set to work preparing my potions, Sylvesse shared more of his wisdom, suggesting that the fog was not specifically targeting Luke and me, but rather our weakened state was merely a side-effect of the magic interfering with our own. He emphasized that the only sure way to escape its grasp was to leave the fog behind entirely.   As I administered some of my magic potions to Luke, his grimace at the taste was unmistakable. Despite his distaste he swallowed it down, while we engaged in a discussion about our options. Turning back seemed the most straightforward path out of the forest, but traveling around Lorewood is a risky proposition, not to mention the considerable time it would take. If we intended to reach Keralon, pushing forward was our best bet. With the weight of the decision resting heavily on our shoulders, Luke and I resolved to press on.   With a newfound sense of determination and a slight improvement in our condition, we resumed our journey. However, a few hours later, our progress was abruptly halted by a shout from the front of the caravan. Another cart blocked our path, a sight that initially surprised us but soon filled us with dread as we drew closer.   As we approached the scene of carnage, a chilling sense of dread settled over us. Four lifeless bodies lay sprawled in the mud, their lives cut short by spears and arrows. The horses that once pulled the cart lay butchered nearby, their carcasses a grim testament to the brutality of the attack. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, indicating that this tragedy had unfolded at least a day prior.   Examining the tracks left behind in the mud, my mind raced through the possibilities. Goblins initially sprung to mind, but their presence in Lorewood seemed unlikely, especially considering the lack of any stolen supplies. It became clear that the perpetrators were driven by a desire for bloodshed and destruction, rather than mere pillaging.   With heavy hearts, we laid the fallen to rest, offering what little solace we could in the form of a proper burial. Salvaging what supplies remained intact, we transferred them to our own carts, knowing that they were likely intended for Logvale. It was a small gesture, but the least we could do to honor the memory of those whose lives were unjustly taken. As we continued our journey, the weight of the tragedy lingered in our hearts, a somber reminder of the dangers that lurked within the depths of Lorewood.   As we continued our journey, Dadroz's keen eyes spotted a lone figure stumbling along the road ahead. A young man, bearing the signs of a fierce struggle – his body battered, his clothes torn, and blood staining his skin. He seemed oblivious to our presence until we drew near, at which point the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. Despite our attempts to offer aid and reassurance, he remained unresponsive, his gaze haunted by unseen terrors.   Recognizing the urgency of his condition, I decided to use my magic to lull him into a peaceful slumber. Perhaps with rest and care, he would be more receptive to our assistance.   The remainder of the day passed without incident, our mysterious guest remaining in a deep sleep. It seemed that the magical slumber had merely reminded his exhausted body of its need for rest. Meanwhile, Luke and I continued to suffer from our ailment, our strength waning as the day wore on.   As night fell and we made camp, Liliana once again employed her magic to ease our discomfort, granting us a chance at a peaceful night's rest. Elsa's generous offer of her carriage to Luke brought a glimmer of joy to his weary eyes, while I found myself pleasantly surprised by Robert's gentlemanly gesture, offering his own carriage to me.   With the promise of warmth and comfort for the night, I dared to hope that a respite from the cold would bring some relief to our ailing bodies, allowing us to face the challenges of the days ahead with renewed strength and vigor.   10th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 10: The fate of twins
8th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

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

Entry 9: A betrayal of satyrs
7th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Dear Diary,   After the whirlwind of events from the previous day, it seemed the twins had taken their mother's advice to heart. Instead of embarking on more daring adventures, they proposed a leisurely tour around the city for us. Eager for a change of pace, we readily agreed, our only dissenting voice being dear Luke, who harbored a deep desire to spend the day lost in the tomes of the library. But even he couldn't resist the allure of wandering the streets with the enchanting Elsa by his side.   As we waited for Edward and Elsa to join us, Onvyr entered the room with a somber expression etched upon his features. He bore news, both good and bad, regarding our journey to Keralon. The bad news hit us like a sudden storm: all but our small group, along with the Collins and Robert, had opted to remain in Hillfield or return to Karn. Our traveling party would be greatly diminished.   Yet, amidst the shadows of disappointment, a glimmer of light emerged. With fewer companions, we held the reins of our journey firmly in our hands. We could depart at our leisure, free from the constraints of a larger group. With unanimous consent, we agreed to set out after breakfast the following morning.   As the prospect of leaving Hillfield loomed on the horizon, a sense of anticipation mingled with apprehension within me. Though I longed for the familiar embrace of Lorewood, I couldn't shake the uncertainty that awaited us in Keralon. Nevertheless, with resolve in my heart, I steeled myself for the journey ahead, hoping that the next leg of our adventure would bring us closer to the answers we sought, and perhaps, a glimmer of the fulfillment we sought.   With the Collins in tow, we embarked on our city exploration, with Alistan and Liliana taking on the roles of knowledgeable guides. Alistan's insights into Hillfield's rich history and Liliana's captivating storytelling skills made for an entertaining tour, lifting the spirits of all. However, our lighthearted excursion was abruptly interrupted.   After a few hours of wandering the bustling streets, we decided to pause for some pastries. It was then that I noticed a shadowy figure lurking in the periphery, trailing our group with a stealthy presence. Never one to back down from a challenge, I resolved to confront this mysterious interloper.   As I approached, the figure attempted to slip away into the crowd, but my determination proved insurmountable. With Fiachna stealthily tracking her from above, escape was futile. Before long, we found ourselves locked in a tense standoff within the confines of a dimly lit alleyway.   It turned out that our mysterious stalker was none other than a former acquaintance of Ileas: a striking young satyr named Griselda. She had caught sight of Ileas entering the city a few days prior and had been attempting to speak with him ever since, albeit discreetly. Initially, her intentions seemed benign, and sensing no immediate threat, we allowed them a moment of privacy to catch up.   However, curiosity and caution gnawed at me, prompting me to shift my perception to Fiachna, who remained perched on the rooftop, keeping a vigilant eye on the unfolding scene below. My suspicions were swiftly validated as it became evident that this encounter was far from a casual reunion between old friends.   Their conversation began amicably enough, but beneath the surface, there lurked an undercurrent of tension. Griselda's words dripped with disdain for Hillfield, painting it as a prison from which Ileas should escape. She questioned his loyalty to the city, subtly urging him to return to their clan where, she implied, he truly belonged.   Yet, to my relief, Ileas remained steadfast in his allegiance to Hillfield, professing his contentment with his newfound home. Despite Griselda's attempts to sway him, it was clear that his heart had been won over by the city's charms, and he had no intention of abandoning it anytime soon.   As the conversation between Ileas and Griselda delved into its true purpose, the veil of secrecy surrounding the rebels' intentions began to lift. Griselda disclosed that their ultimate goal was nothing short of independence from Keralon, and their plan involved "freeing" Hillfield as a crucial step towards achieving that aim. When pressed by Ileas about the potential consequences of their actions, Griselda evaded specifics, claiming their foremost concern was to minimize further bloodshed.   However, my intuition prickled with suspicion at the vagueness of her assurances. It was clear there was more to her request than met the eye. She implored Ileas to assist in delivering a package to Sergeant Berris, containing a message offering a truce. But beneath her seemingly earnest plea, I sensed a hidden agenda lurking beneath the surface.   After Griselda departed, I wasted no time in dispatching Fiachna to shadow her movements. It was astonishingly easy to track her to their covert hideout—a quaint establishment known as the Sylvan Pastries. The irony of their choice of hiding place was not lost on me; it was a stroke of brilliance to name it as such, too obvious to raise suspicion.   As Ileas emerged from the alley, a palpable sense of conflict etched upon his features, my apprehensions only grew. Sensing the gravity of the situation, I urged caution and proposed inspecting the package before proceeding with Griselda's plan. My suspicions proved well-founded when my astute brother, Luke, confirmed the presence of potent evocation magic woven into its very fabric.   With mounting dread, we realized the true nature of Griselda's intentions. She was using Ileas as a pawn in a heinous plot—a terrorist attack aimed at the city guards. Despite the damning evidence laid before him, Ileas stubbornly defended Griselda's actions, his loyalty to her clouding his judgment.   Anger surged within me, a raging fire fueled by betrayal and indignation. Griselda's manipulation had placed Ileas in grave danger, casting him as both a pawn and a potential casualty in her reckless scheme. It was clear that she deserved neither respect nor leniency.   With a steely resolve, I confronted Ileas, urging him to see reason and sever ties with Griselda before it was too late. The gravity of the situation demanded swift action, and I was determined to ensure that Ileas did not fall victim to Griselda's deceitful machinations. For the safety of all, her treachery could not be allowed to go unchecked.   With grim determination, we made our way to the guardstation, the weight of our mission heavy upon us. Alistan suggested that Ileas take the lead in delivering the alarming news, given his firsthand knowledge of the situation. As Ileas recounted the chilling details to Sergeant Berris, the shock etched across the sergeant's face spoke volumes. Without hesitation, he dispatched a guard to deliver the dangerous package to a local mage for safe disposal. As we prepared to depart, I casually mentioned the whereabouts of the rebel satyrs' hideout—the Sylvan Pastries. The stunned expressions that greeted my revelation were most rewarding.   With our duty to the city fulfilled, we set out once more to resume our exploration of Hillfield. Despite the gravity of our actions, Ileas remained troubled, his uncertainty lingering like a shadow over our group. He questioned whether turning in the bomb had been the right course of action, grappling with the moral implications of our decision. Yet, I reassured him that our actions had been necessary to prevent further harm. If we had not intervened, the rebels would have undoubtedly sought out another unwitting pawn to carry out their nefarious plans.   As we continued our tour of the city, Ileas' doubts gradually subsided, replaced by a newfound sense of purpose. Though the road ahead remained fraught with uncertainty, we had acted with courage and integrity, ensuring the safety of Hillfield and its inhabitants. And for that, we could hold our heads high, knowing that we had made a difference in the face of adversity.   As we resumed our tour, we noticed the street containing the Sylvan Pastries had been cordoned off, bearing signs of a violent struggle, with guards leading bugbears and satyrs away in restraints. Alistan and Liliana exchanged disappointed glances, their adventurous spirits undoubtedly itching to investigate the scene firsthand. But it wasn't our place to intervene in matters of law enforcement. We had fulfilled our duty, and now it was up to the guards to maintain order and justice within their jurisdiction.   With the tour concluded, we parted ways once more. Some of us dispersed to explore the city further, while others pursued their individual interests. Luke, with his perpetual enthusiasm, made a beeline for the library, his eager grin lighting up his face as he disappeared into the labyrinthine shelves of knowledge. As for me, I made my way back to the comforting sanctuary of the inn.   With most of my shopping already completed, there was only one essential item left on my list: a barrel of cider from the inn's renowned stock. For a witch, having a steady supply of cider was not merely a luxury but a vital component of my craft. As the evening wore on, our group reconvened, with Luke expressing a newfound interest in investigating the mysterious menhir located within the De La Roost garden. Eager to unlock its secrets, We headed there, however there was one slight hitch. Lady De La Roost had posed a guard at the stone with explicit instructions to not let anyone touch it, and even her children did not manage to sway him.   Though I found Lady De La Roost's behavior distasteful and arrogant, I couldn't deny her shrewdness in protecting her property. Respecting the guard's steadfast commitment to his duty, expressing he would lose his job if he didn’t, I refrained from using my magic to subdue him.   Instead, we resigned ourselves to enjoying dinner at the inn once more, joined this time by Onvyr, who brought news of a potential new addition to our caravan—a dwarf who had been banned from the city. The irony of the situation was not lost on me, and a small smile tugged at the corners of my lips as Onvyr shared the news.   With our departure scheduled for early morning, we retired to our chambers at the inn, anticipation mingling with weariness as we prepared for the journey ahead. Tomorrow promised to be the start of a new chapter in our adventure, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement tinged with trepidation as I drifted off to sleep.   7th of Lug, 121 year of the Tree

Entry 8: The scarecrow ruse
6th of Lug, 121 Year of the Tree

Deary Diary,   Our evening's discovery left us breathless, but I must backtrack and conclude the events that followed. With the captive cultists securely detained, we handed them over to the vigilant guards of the monastery. Father Eton assured us they would be thoroughly interrogated before being transferred to the city watch for further questioning.   Seeking closure to our adventure, we ventured into the depths of the sewers, accessed through the hidden entrance within the cultists' lair. However, our exploration yielded only the desolate remnants of the abandoned dig site. Upon resurfacing, Father Eton shared insights gleaned from the interrogation. Two of the captured cultists were revealed to be former members of the order, though their dedication had been a short one. The identity of the third one remained a mystery.   When we came back up, Father Eton informed us that two of the cultists had been former members of the order, but had never really fully committed to the faith, while the third one was unknown to them. It dawned on me that Marek, with his intricate knowledge of our order, might have recruited these disillusioned former brethren.   Liliana, with her newfound resolve, took charge and decided to personally interrogate the captives. To our amazement, her gentle demeanor transformed into that of a silver-tongued paladin, skilled in the art of persuasion. It didn't take long before one of the cultists cracked under her relentless questioning, especially when faced with the abandonment by their leader, Marek, following the disastrous events in the sewers.   The truth spilled forth like a dam bursting. The motley crew had been on a quest for one of Morhim's elusive spellbooks, rumored to contain the dark secrets of lichdom. Their goal was laid bare: to uncover this forbidden knowledge and defy death itself. I couldn't help but ponder the folly of such ambitions. In our mortal existence, the inevitability of death is an immutable truth, an essential part of the natural cycle. Once you come to terms with this reality, the fear of mortality loses its grip. Who, indeed, would wish to linger in this world indefinitely, when the beauty of life lies in its fleeting moments and the promise of what lies beyond?   Following a misadventure in the sewers, the cultists enlisted the aid of dwarven laborers to carry out their excavation, leaving them idle and restless. As the saying goes, idle hands are the devil's workshop, and it wasn't long before their mischief turned towards desecrating the sacred temple. Little did they know, their reckless actions would ultimately be their undoing.   In a stroke of irony, their sacrilege proved to be our greatest advantage. Had they not defiled the temple, we may never have been drawn to investigate, uncovering their clandestine dig site in the process. It seems the scales of justice have a way of balancing themselves, as karma came full circle.   With the interrogation concluded, Father Eton extended his gratitude, offering us unrestricted access to the monastery's extensive library. Though my dear brother harbored hopes of delving into the forbidden tomes, Father Eton made it clear that some knowledge was not meant for mortal eyes. Still, one couldn't fault him for his curiosity and ambition.   Gael, Luke, and I waved goodbye to the De La Roosts and Ileas as they headed home for the evening, leaving us to wander back to the cozy inn. The moment we stepped through the door, our senses were greeted by the tantalizing scent of roasted hen wafting from the kitchen. Instantly, the memories of our recent sewer escapade faded into the background as we eagerly anticipated the hearty meal awaiting us.   The inn's common room welcomed us with warmth and lively chatter as patrons mingled, laughter bubbling up amidst the clinking of glasses and the strumming of guitars. The aroma of food and the promise of good company chased away any lingering worries, and soon we were lost in the joy of the moment.   As the evening wore on, the jovial atmosphere only grew, with games of chance unfolding at one table while lively debates sparked at another. Music filled the air, drawing us into its rhythm and lifting our spirits. Outside, the weather took a turn for the worse, the sky darkening with the promise of an approaching storm. Yet, within the comforting embrace of the inn, we felt sheltered from the impending tempest, content to revel in the simple pleasures of friendship and camaraderie.   I finally mustered the courage to approach the enigmatic figure lurking in the shadowy corner of the inn. As I made my way through the bustling crowd, I couldn't help but notice the sudden hush that fell over the room, the curious gazes of the other patrons following my every move. I had anticipated concern or perhaps even suspicion, but instead, I sensed an undercurrent of amusement rippling through the air.   With a sinking feeling in my gut, I reached the table and beheld the object of everyone's attention: a scarecrow, positioned incongruously amidst the dimly lit corner. It didn't take long for me to realize that I had stumbled into the midst of an elaborate prank. The laughter that erupted around me confirmed my suspicions, but I refused to let embarrassment overtake me.   Summoning all my resolve, I enacted my plan without hesitation. With a subtle gesture, I directed Fiachna, my ever-faithful companion, to stealthily approach the scarecrow from beneath the table. Then, with a straight face and unwavering determination, I engaged in conversation with the inanimate figure before me.   The laughter faltered, replaced by a palpable sense of confusion and disbelief. A concerned patron approached, undoubtedly curious about the spectacle unfolding before him. Though he remained skeptical of my claims regarding the scarecrow's supposed spiritual inhabitant, his attention was diverted long enough to not notice Fiachna.   I returned to my table with a triumphant smirk, relishing in the knowledge that I had successfully turned the tables on my pranksters. "Never try to outwit a witch," I thought with a satisfied grin. Mathilda, the innkeeper, caught wind of the mischief and couldn't help but appreciate the cleverness of my ruse.   As a token of her admiration, she placed a delectable dessert before me, compliments of the house. The sweet treat served as the perfect finale to what had been a tumultuous day filled with unexpected twists and turns. With each indulgent bite, I reflected on the events of the evening, finding solace in the simple joys and camaraderie found within the cozy confines of the inn. Truly, it was a lovely ending to a day fraught with excitement and adventure.   6th of Lug, 121 Year of the Tree

Entry 7: mysteries and pastries

Dear Diary,   Being a witch means doing what needs to be done and saying what needs to be said, even if it's not what people want to hear. Even if it means Luke throws another one of his patented "insufferable little sister" eye rolls at me. Whatever. If people can't handle honesty, well, that's on them, not me.   Friendship built on lies is a sugar-coated poison apple as far as I'm concerned. Give me brutal truth any day. Luke thinks that's why I have no friends. Classic Luke logic. Because, duh, I have you, my amazing brother! You're the best friend I could ask for. And you can put my diary down again now and if you ever read it again I will curse you and your offspring in perpetuity.   The day started much like the evening before, with Gael, Luke, and me chatting over breakfast. The smell of sizzling bacon and fresh bread filled the air, and did you see the mountain of bacon piled on Gael's plate? And mine?Being on friendly terms with the innkeeper definitely has its perks.   Gael brought up a point about power dynamics that got me thinking. He said those in power often cling to it fiercely, afraid of losing their grip. It made me worry even more about the De La Roost family. Are they more loyal to some mysterious Fey King, bound by magic, than to their own people or king? It's a troubling thought.   With those worries lingering, we ventured into town for some shopping. Luke indulged in a pricey gem, while I opted for more practical supplies for our journey to Keralon. As we made our way back to the inn to meet the others, a quaint little pastry shop caught my eye so I made a mental note to explore it further later.   As we gathered at the inn around noon, I noticed our companions Liliana, Alistan, and Ileas were back to their cheerful selves, the tension from the night before seemingly forgotten. Eager for another adventure, Alistan proposed investigating the attacks by the mercenary satyrs. After a brief discussion, we agreed to seek guidance from Sergeant Berris at the guardhouse, hoping he could provide some answers and lead us in the right direction. When we arrived, the guards didn't take us seriously at first, seeing us as just a group of youngsters. It wasn't until Alistan mentioned his prestigious family name that they decided to let us speak with Sergeant Berris. From him, we learned that the satyrs had been causing trouble for weeks, but they weren't officially banned from the city. However, the sergeant suspected they had a hideout somewhere within the city limits, though its exact location remained a mystery. Surprisingly, when Alistan offered to assist in the investigation, Sergeant Berris accepted, but not without the condition that we refrain from engaging in any illegal activities. Something illegal was of course the first course of action suggested by Gael once we were outside to discuss what to do. He wanted to use poor Ileas as bait, by having him free the imprisoned Satyrs and convince them that he is on their side, so they could bring him to their hideout. A plan that was quickly shot down.   As we talked about this, we passed by the square in front of the monastery and Alistan pointed out that a crowd had formed at one of the side entrances, a very angry crowd. All that was missing was pitchforks and torches for it to be a veritable witch hunt. Of course we, or rather Alistan, had to go and check out what the issue was, and we learned that the crowd was upset for not being allowed into the chapel dedicated to Belenus that morning.   It seemed odd to me that a riot would erupt over something as trivial as being denied entry to a chapel. So, I nudged Luke and asked him to use his magical abilities to sense if there was any sorcery at play. Meanwhile, I transferred my vision to Fiachna, my trusted raven companion. As this makes me unaware of my surroundings, I do this in a safe space where I can focus completely, but out in the open, I need someone to guide me. I surprised Ileas by taking his hand for this purpose. You see, actions speak louder than words, and by choosing Ileas, with whom I had clashed the previous evening, I showed a measure of trust that words alone cannot convey. Knowing what to do and what to say is a potent form of magic. As I scouted the area, nothing seemed amiss at the monastery itself; the main gate was open, it was just this one side entrance to the chapel of Belenus that was closed. What caught my attention, though, were a couple of suspicious-looking dwarves skulking around the square. They seemed intent on avoiding attention. I urged Fiachna to follow them, but they disappeared into an inn a few streets away.   Luke informed us that there was no trace of magic involved in the crowd’s behavior. Alistan, in the meanwhile, engaged in a discussion with the monks who were managing the irate crowd. Through his persuasive words, he managed to sway one of the monks to request an audience with the abbot on our behalf. While we awaited a response, Alistan attempted to calm the crowd, although his efforts yielded only moderate success. Fortunately, not long after, the monk returned, announcing that he would escort us to meet with the abbot. Wisely, he opted for a servant entrance rather than the barred side entrance, which could have further incited the angry mob.   The monk led us through a labyrinth of passages until we finally reached the chapel dedicated to Belenus. Inside, we found Father Eton waiting for us. It quickly became apparent why the chapel had been closed to the public that day. Along the back wall stood three statues of the Sun God, Belenus. Two of them had been vandalized, while the third, middle one, had red streaks on its face and was even shedding a tear of blood. My remark about Belenus being upset by the desecration didn't sit well with the abbot. Determined to uncover the truth, our group embarked on an investigation of the crime scene. Liliana used her divine senses to confirm that the area had indeed been desecrated. Dadroz searched for hidden passages but came up empty-handed. While the others discussed their findings, I decided to once again tap into Fiachna's senses and keep watch on the suspicious dwarves. It proved fortuitous, as shortly afterward, they left the inn and made their way past the monastery, disappearing into a small park to the north. There, they accessed a hidden entrance leading into the sewers.   When I mentioned the dwarves' suspicious behavior, Alistan and Liliana were quick to suggest investigating further, seeing as we'd hit a dead end in the chapel. Why they considered trudging through a sewer an adventure was beyond me. The mere thought made me queasy. And when they lifted the lid to the entrance, the stench nearly made me lose my breakfast. I had to fight the urge to vomit, which would have been a shame for the delicious bacon. For me, this was undoubtedly the worst experience since leaving Tarn. It only intensified my longing for the open fields and comfort of Lorewood. Fortunately, our search didn't last long. Alistan noticed the sound of activity in the distance, prompting Gael and Dadroz to sneak ahead for a closer look. They returned with news that the dwarves were indeed in the sewers, accompanied by a strange creature called an ettercap, presumably serving as a guard dog.   Our attempt to sneak closer almost fell into the water, literally. Sneaking around wasn't my forte, and I wasn't exactly at my sharpest. Alistan didn't fare much better. Thankfully, the dwarves were too engrossed in their work to notice our clumsy approach. However, they certainly took notice when we entered the room they were excavating. Their leader, a dwarf with fiery red eyes and a snow-white beard, demanded to know our purpose there. Dadroz attempted to bluff our way out, claiming we were members of the thieves' guild being led through secret passages. But our cover was blown when Liliana and Alistan began questioning them.   They clearly had no intention of cooperating, and when the idea of informing the guards arose—digging in the sewers being illegal and all—I noticed they seemed keen on splitting us up. Instead, Liliana suggested making a citizen's arrest. Unfortunately, that only escalated tensions, resulting in weapons being drawn and a skirmish ensuing. If I hadn't been preoccupied with keeping my breakfast down and the foul odors out, perhaps I could have intervened. But alas. The fight didn't drag on for long. Before we knew it, one of the dwarves lay lifeless, an arrow piercing his eye, and I was left wondering if Liliana had ever received any tactical training as a paladin. In her haste to shield my dear brother from the ettercap, something I am always grateful for but in this case was utterly unnecessary, she left us vulnerable, allowing the dwarf she had been engaging to turn his attention to me. And let me tell you, dwarven pickaxes hurt.   Feeling a tad disgruntled and nursing my wounds, I eagerly proposed that I return to the surface to summon the guards. Gael, blessed with the ability to see in the dark, and Luke, my steadfast brother, accompanied me. Once we emerged from the foul depths of the sewers, Luke utilized his handy magical prowess to tidy us up a bit before we hastened to the guardhouse. Sergeant Berris required little persuasion to dispatch a squad of guards to accompany us back into the sewers. Meanwhile, our companions encountered a monk and his guards in the sewers, a decidedly suspicious encounter. Claiming to be from the monastery and investigating the disturbance, they departed hastily, leaving behind an air of intrigue. Their reluctance to disclose even their names hinted at hidden motives lurking beneath the surface.   Quick-thinking Ileas sketched a portrait of the monk, which proved invaluable later on. When the leader of the dwarves regained consciousness, he divulged his name as Brother Marek, their employer. He had hired them to excavate for a lost treasure—an ancient book of great significance. All of this is only from what the others told me afterwards, as I opted to remain above ground this time, deciding to further explore the monastery (and perhaps indulge in some pastries, priorities, you know). Luke later recounted that upon their return with the guards, the duergar began hurling accusations of assault and murder. They admitted to their illicit excavation activities but argued vehemently against being summarily executed by mere civilians. I couldn't help but agree; we are not law enforcement officers. Though we had sought to apprehend rather than harm, unfortunately, one of them had met a tragic fate. Consequently, they were all escorted to the guard station for Sergeant Berris to conduct his inquiry. However they were swiftly bailed out by Lady De La Roost.   As I reflect upon my short time in this town—mere two days—I find my regard for the local noble family dwindling with each passing moment. Their arrogance knows no bounds, their privilege shields them from accountability. It's egregious! Someone lost their life unjustly, and yet they wield their name as a shield to brush aside consequences. At least Alistan possesses a moral compass, offering to shoulder the blame for our actions. But Liliana's spine seems sorely lacking. Lady De La Roost prioritizes preserving their family's reputation over seeking justice. Though she didn't express it explicitly, her message was clear: the family name supersedes the value of a life. It's disheartening. She's managed to persuade her children to prioritize their status over principles of fairness and righteousness. I can only hope that their time in Keralon, learning the ways of knighthood, will instill in them the true essence of honor and integrity.   After Lady De La Roost departed, I rejoined my companions. We quickly caught up on the events that transpired, and then made our way back to the monastery. Brother Marek had become a pivotal lead in our investigation, linking it directly to the monastery. It is good to see that the scolding has not deterred my companions from pushing forwards. During our meeting with Father Eton, he revealed that Brother Marek had parted ways with the monastery several months ago. Apparently, the monastery houses a library brimming with forbidden knowledge and arcane secrets, and Marek's insatiable curiosity led him to seek access to it. However, after being repeatedly denied entry, he left the order. Now, it seems he's on a quest to find an alternative route into the library. I could sense my brother's excitement at the mention of a library filled with mystical lore, only to see it dampened by the news that we wouldn't be granted access. Despite the setback, our determination remained unwavering. We were undeterred, ready to press forward in our pursuit of the truth.   Luke, ever the resourceful one, decided to take another crack at finding a secret passage in the chapel, convinced that it was the dwarves' intended target. With his keen intellect, he cleverly utilized incense to detect any drafts, ultimately uncovering the hidden entrance. Dadroz swiftly opened the door, revealing a small room that served as living quarters with a passage leading down into the sewers. However, our intrusion quickly escalated into a skirmish as three of the occupants were present. Fortunately, I managed to put two of them to sleep with a spell, bringing the conflict to an abrupt halt. But the discoveries didn't end there. To our astonishment, nestled at the back of the room, we stumbled upon a small shrine dedicated to Morhin, the ancient lich responsible for igniting a war against Keralon over a century ago! The revelation sent chills down our spines, hinting at the deeper mysteries concealed within the monastery's walls.   6th of Lug, 121 Year of the Tree  

Entry 6: Hillfield and Deals with Fae

Dear Diary,   After another day of traveling through Lorewood without anything happening, hence no entry for yesterday, We finally arrived amidst the rolling hills surrounding our first real stop on the way to Keralon. Hillfield, a city which has not stolen its name. The woods made way for more open ground with hills and fields. The weather has also turned warmer again, finally leaving winter behind, as well as the sense of doom and gloom that has accompanied us this entire trip so far.   As we approached the city, some of us noticed guards and hunters tearing down menhirs along the side of the road, but no-one seems to know why this is being done. We later learned that this was being done on the orders of Lady De La Roost, the mother of Liliana and Alistan, but that would be getting ahead of myself.   Alistan kindly proposed that we could all stay at the mansion of their family for as long as we paused in Hillfield, and while most happily accepted this offer, Gael did not. He opted to stay at the Iron Shield Inn, which had been arranged for the members of the caravan by Orvyn. As I did not feel like leaving my newfound elven friend alone there, I offered to stay with him instead. Besides, spending time at an actual Inn sounds more exciting than spending time with some nobles.   I am not one to be easily impressed, but the sight of Hillfield left even me a bit speechless and overwhelmed. This city is grander and louder than anything I have seen before and I can only imagine how much bigger Keralon must be still. I already miss roaming Lorewood. As we entered the city and had to wait for the other wagons to be checked by the guards, I wandered to one of the shops near the entry gate. Drawn to food as always Luke would say. While I was contemplating which of the delicious smelling pies I wanted to try, a group of satyr accompanied by blink dogs rushed out from the alleys and started attacking people in the street! And not just some mischief, no, they were fully intent on killing as many people as they could while the guards were distracted outside of the gates. They picked the wrong time to do so though, as our little group made short work of them, this time actually managing to not kill all of them, but capturing quite a few instead.   When the fight was over and the dust had settled, the guards had finally arrived back at the gate. They rounded everyone up, demanding we drop out weapons and started interrogating everyone. Alistan explained what had happened, and when their captain arrived, a man named Berris, he also informed him who exactly it was they were dealing with. Having the name of the leading noble family certainly helps. With that cleared up, captain Berris told us that the satyrs have been causing trouble for a while now, raiding the surrounding area, and sometimes also the city, all in the name of some upstart self declared baron in the east. As Ileas is also a satyr, and apparently used to be part of the same clans in the north which are causing trouble now, they took a special interest in him. But we quickly explained that Ileas is not part of the clans, and instead belongs to the De La Roost family. So he was left in the care and responsibility of Alistan, and warned that it would be unwise to roam around the city alone. Sound advice to follow considering the tension between the people of hillfield and the satyrs.   When we were finally allowed to pass on, we headed first to the Inn so Gael and I can settle in and leave our things, before heading to the De La Roost mansion and meeting the sibling’s family. The inn itself is huge, with four or five stories and it could probably house all the people from Tarn all at once. A very slender half-orc woman named Mathilda, half of her face horribly scarred from some burns. That definitely put her on top of my list of people to talk to around here, next to the obligatory mysterious stranger sitting in the darkest corner of the inn. The room we were given was the one highest up in the tower, and it has an amazing view of the city!   With our things unpacked, Gael and I headed back down to the rest and we crossed the road to the De La Roost mansion, probably the largest building in the city, next to the monastery. Liliana and Alistan seemed to be a bit surprised that the mansion has guards at the gate, and it took a bit convincing to let us in. Not made easier by Liliana apparently expecting to be recognised instead of just mentioning her name. Either way, Alistan showed his signet ring and soon we found ourselves inside, greeted by Sofia De La Roost, the sibling’s mother, an elegant woman with dark hair. She invited us into the common room for some tea, and informed us that her husband was not in Hillfield, instead being out with some of the guards to deal with the raids while waiting for reinforcements from Keralon. As the servants have all already gone to bed, Ileas was asked by Lady Sofia to make tea…and then to make the beds for the guests staying there, something he jumped to without hesitation. Apparently he has been a servant here for many years and is still expected to do so. The casualness and entitlement of it all is one of the reasons why nobles never sit quite well with me.   Not wanting to say anything about this, Instead I inquired about the menhirs and why they were being taken down. Lady Sofia explained that she had been reading up on them, and that they were part of some ancient fey curse that an ancient kingdom wanted to enact in a war with another fey kingdom. Immerglade and Neverhold I presume. The curse was never completed, but in case anyone had the idea of completing it, she had decided it wiser to remove them. I inquired if I could read through some of the old books, which she graciously allowed. Engrossed in the book, I only half listened to the conversation between Alistan and his mother about Ileas and peoples place in the world.   While this is a discussion I would normally love to join, the book was simply more interesting. Even more so as lady Sofia was not telling the whole truth. From what I can tell the menhirs formed the border of Immerglade’s power and influence, but they have been dormant since the fall of the ancient fey kingdom. No mention of a curse though, nor of the war. So why lie about it? And why remove the stones unless you’re somehow afraid of Immerglade returning. Which is quite possible as we’ve learned from the prophecy surrounding the Bramble Trials. There is certainly more to this, and we would soon find out what.   Shortly after Edward and Elsa arrived, who had been dealing with business for their father, Lady Sofia went to bed and Gael and I decided to head back to the Inn. I was eager to have a talk with Mathilda and with the mysterious stranger, and wrap my head around what I had found out.   Back at the Inn Gael and I sat down at the bar and after ordering drinks for the two of us, I asked Mathilda about her story, why she had come to run an inn in Hillfield. Except for Luke, I think people are sometimes a bit taken aback by my forwardness (or bluntness as Luke calls it), but it does get people to tell you things. She told us that she had done some bad things in her youth, much akin to what the satyrs are doing now, raiding and killing. But she chose to give up that life and move to Keralon to make amends. It did not turn out well though, as some mob got ahold of her and burnt her. After that, when she recovered, she moved to Hillfield with her brother. He served as a cook here at the inn while she served as the bouncer for the previous owners, and when they retired, the two of them took over and kept it open. I must admit I like the woman. Her openness about her life is refreshing.   When we were about to turn in for the night, Alistan contacted me by means of the Immerglade stones we got at the Bramble Trial, informing us that they had found an active menhir in the garden of their mansion. So Gael and I headed back over there to check it out. It is active alright, with its runes glowing. The runes are different from those on the Immerglade ones though, similar, but different. Luke informed us that part of the magic was meant to protect it and part was used as a conduit of power to channel energy between a fae realm and our world. Not a good sign.   Alistan rushed inside to go and ask his mother about it, and then a few minutes later shouting at us from the window of her room, saying we had to come up because she wasn’t there and he had found a secret passage. more intrigue and more mystery surrounding this family with every passing moment. So we headed in and after a short discussion with one of the servants, headed down in the passage. It led all the way down to the basement and then out of the mansion itself, ending up in a small underground room below where the menhir is standing in the garden. The sight inside was a shock to all, and especially Liliana and Alistan. Their mother, dressed in robes and wearing a frightful fanged mask, chanting and praying to some rune covered altar. A prayer of protection to some creature named Ulther. Alistan wanted to question her immediately, but she urged us to let her finish the prayers and she would explain everything afterwards.   So ten minutes later we all found ourselves back in the common room in awkward silence while waiting for Lady Sofia to explain herself. It took some prompting from Luke and myself to get her to talk. I don’t think she likes us much anymore after this evening. So, apparently a long time ago the De La Roost family made a deal with High King Ulther, the hobgoblin king of Neverhold, in order to strike down the leper revolt and gain some wealth and prosperity for the family. In return they have to do small task for the King, such as praying and removing bothersome menhirs. This worries me, because why would they want them removed now? That means he is afraid of Immerglade’s return isn’t he? Anyway, that is not all there is to the deal, as Liliana revealed that each second child is supposed to go to Neverhold and serve the High King Ulther for some years. And they seem to follow this tradition blindly, which left Luke and I baffled. For starters is making a deal with fae creatures a bad idea to start with, and sorry Ileas, but no, that is not racism or prejudice, but making a deal to get the service of every second born of your family in perpetuity? Who makes those kinds of deals?   So a hearty discussion broke out between Luke and I on one side, and Lady Sofia, Liliana and Ileas on the other. They don’t seem to have any problem with sending Liliana off into slavery for a few years. “It’s tradition, things have always been like that, it’s her choice”. While Luke and I argued that it is exactly a lack of choice. She’s simply following a tradition she’s been indoctrinated to follow and see as right. We of course didn’t manage to convince them, and only managed to anger Lady Sofia and Ileas. I wonder what they would do if their deal and allegiance to High King Ulther conflicts with their duty to the king of Keralon? As they think duty is sacred, which will they choose? Duty to their land and king, or duty to their deal with a fey? I truly wonder.   When we decided to leave, Luke no longer comfortable staying at the mansion anymore so joining Gael and me at the inn, Alistan spoke to Luke and me, saying he shares our views and would request of us to help him break the deal, first and foremost by finding information on this hobgoblin king. Something we happily promised to do. At least one member of the De La Roost family has common sense.   Dated 6th of Lug, Year 121 era of the Tree

Entry 5: of ghosts and wolves

Dear diary,   So, our first watch duty and it didn’t go all that great. During the second watch, during witching hour Liliana and Gael were standing watch as a ghostly figure appeared in the forest, pleading for help in elven. Liliana decided to wake everyone up because she wanted to head into the forest to go and help the ghost. So we had a discussion about it, in which I pointed out it is our duty to guard the camp, and that it is a stupid idea to wander into these forests, especially so at night, and even more so while being lured there by a ghost. A discussion broke out with Liliana and Alistan on one end and Gael and I on the other. In the end we put it to a vote, which was an exercise in futility. We voted against going but Liliana decided to go anyway. So much for doing things as a group if you’re going to push your will through anyway regardless. Valuable lesson learned though.   So Liliana and Alistan headed into the forest after the ghost, and Gael and Luke decided to join them for some backup, whilst Dadroz and myself kept on guard duty. And good thing that my brother and Gael joined them, because this would have ended badly for the siblings. When they arrived at a little cabin by a lake, they got ambushed by a second ghost, and floating ladies in the middle of a lake are notoriously hard to hit with swords. Gael’s bow and my brother’s magic however cleared the threat. They then managed to lay the first ghost, who was genuinely looking for help, to rest.   So all well that ends well I guess. The siblings got to feel good about doing a good deed that could have been a disaster, but in doing so, they forgot their duty. As they want to become knights in service of the king, that is a lesson they will need to learn. Sometimes duty is not rushing off on some fool hearted quest. Sometimes it is standing guard in the cold. Youthful enthusiasm still wins out, and they do have their hearts in the right place, wishing to help others.   What troubles me far more however is that words have power. Promises and bonds have power. And Liliana’s words proved to be empty when she decided to ignore the vote of the group. So no more votes, and I will be careful to put my trust in her.   The day started somber, after a day spent in eternal spring, we found ourselves on the last day of winter, as it started snowing. The siblings used the opportunity to start a snowball fight, they really are just children in their hearts. It is good to see them enjoy the last day of snow though.   The rest of the day passed slowly and uneventfully until late in the afternoon the foreboding feeling of dread coming from the forest intensified again, accompanied by a singing voice. This time I decided to take matters in my own hands so I jumped off the cart and walked to the edge of the forest, and in a determined and strong voice told the spirits of the forest to leave us be, as we are not afraid of them. The effect of this being that a large white winterwolf appeared, all the dread and danger concentrating in its cold blue eyes and fanged snarl. The fight was short and brutal, as winter wolves are not to be underestimated. In the aftermath, Elsa healed Alistan by giving him a kiss on the cheek. The girl certainly has some strange tricks up her sleeve, and you can imagine what that little kiss caused in both Alistan, his cheeks red like a tomato, and my dear brother Luke, turning equally red in anguish.   While they contemplated this latest change of events, I cut the tail off the wolf and made a makeshift sign to hang at the edge of the first. The others think it is to ward off the spirits, and in a way it is. But it isn’t magical in its own right. But it is a warning, or a threat if you will. And those have magic of their own.   With the threat dealt with, the rest of the day passed uneventfully.   Dated 4th of Lug, Year 121 era of the Tree      

Entry 4: Hearts and Dreams

Dear Diary,     After a good night’s rest in a very comfortable bed, I don’t think I’ve ever slept on such a soft mattress with such amazingly smooth blankets, we had breakfast with sir Flinn before heading back to the caravan to continue our journey to Hillside.   On the way back to the campsite, Gael and Dadroz told me about a dream they had. Both of them had the exact same dream, and as we later learned from our companions, So did everyone else except Miss Liliana and myself. Maybe we were excluded for some reason? Or maybe our will was too strong for it to be affected by whatever caused this dream? Or maybe we were not strong enough to share in it? Who knows. Either way, from what Gael described, the dream, or vision centered around the pool of boiling water, and a beautiful female voice singing in Elven. Gael was so kind to translate it, and the song holds a dire warning for the future of Rosebloom, or at least that is what I think.   “In shadows cast by twilight’s mourn. A town lies still, its fate forlorn. Whispers haunt its one dead street. Where sorrow and despair entreat.   Hollow windows, shattered panes. Reflect the echoes of past refrains. Once bustling with life’s vibrant hum. New silence reigns, a drive begun.”   Gael decided to write a letter about this dream and its message to sir Flinn, something I approve of greatly. I must say that in these few days of travel, Gael is certainly the one who’s made an impression on me. I will need to spend more time with him.   As we arrived at the camp, I noticed my brother looking a bit grumpier than his usual cheerful self, and a short inquiry later told me that his evening had not gone as I had envisioned. Instead of dancing with and enjoying the presence of fair Elsa, he had been entertaining young Anna in conversation about arcane magic, whilst Elsa’s attention had been stolen away by Robert. Poor Luke, having a third contender for the heart of the young noble must weigh on his soul, but I’ll just have to remind him that one dance will not win over her heart so easily. I think his effort in entertaining the young girl will have made much more of a positive impact on Elsa than a dance would have. She values reading and knowledge almost as much as he does. I hope he sees that.   The third contender for her heart apparently got into a bit of a row with the local hunters. Poor Alistan being accused of cheating while arm wrestling their leader Anton. I did not see the match and I have not seen this Anton, but Alistan is too noble to cheat, and let us be honest, with his physique, it is not hard to imagine he won fair and square.   After packing everything, we departed Rosebloom. On the way past the castle, I spotted sir Flinn looking over us, so I waved at him in greeting. I hope we will meet again, and I hope someday I will be able to introduce Alistan, Liliana and Edward to him.   The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully, and when we made camp for the evening, Onvyr informed us that it was time for our group to stand guard. So we split in groups, with Gael taking two shifts, as the cunning little elf barely needs sleep it seems.     Dated 3rd of Lug, Year 121 era of the Tree

Entry 3: Rosebloom

Dear Diary,   Today turned out to be a bit of a dreary day, the weather has turned cold and damp, the kind of weather that soaks and chills you to the bone, even though it is not really raining. The sort of weather you sometimes can expect at this time of year, a last stab of winter to remind the people that life is not always sunshine and rainbows, and that hard times will return. It puts a damper on morale, and while I am aware these cold spells can happen even now that spring has come, I cannot shake the feeling it is unnatural. That the events we have witnessed are all connected somehow, and this is just a foreshadowing of something worse to come. Luke would say I’m too much of a pessimist, but while he’s intelligent, he doesn’t have a witch’s instincts, to see things for what they are, instead of seeing what you expect to see.   But as per usual, I get a bit ahead of myself. Both the evening and night were rather uneventful. Robert Talespinner, the bard Gael saved from the reynards (yes we all had a hand in this but the real hero is Gael) told us how he had come to be on the road here. He had been wanting to attend our festival but somehow got stuck on the road and never made it. So he had decided to turn back to Hillfield when the Reynards had shown up demanding a toll. As he couldn’t pay them, they got aggressive, but you already know that part. Other than that, he spent the evening telling stories, while Liliana gave an amazing singing performance, accompanied by Alistan’s violin.     The next morning I told Luke that I wanted to have a word with Elsa, so he would have to ride at the front with the rest. I think he was a bit worried I would talk about him to the young noble, but always the good sport, he didn’t argue. He needed to be worried either, I am not interested in discussing his love life with anyone but himself. No, the fact that she sleeps so much intrigues me and I want to get to the bottom of that. Alistan seemed to have similar questions, but he seemed to be satisfied with the answer that she always sleeps that much. So this is how I found myself riding a cozy carriage, watching a sleeping girl, while the rest had to endure the sudden change in weather. Some of them gave me looks at noon, thinking I had chosen to ride the carriage because of the weather. It just shows how little they know of me. The weather doesn’t bother me, it’s part of our lives and witches are made of sturdier stuff. I took the time to write a bit in my journal and contemplate the events of the past days, waiting for Elsa to wake up. When she eventually did, she was surprised to find me there. So I explained why I had chosen to spend the morning with her, asking about her sleeping habits. Apparently she has always done this, sleeping half of the day, much to the displeasure of her mother. She also knows she will have to change this habit once we reach Keralon. Becoming a sorceress of any meaning will not allow her such luxuries. Mostly satisfied with these answers we spent the rest of the morning with some food and drinks, and playing chess.   When noon came, the camping was somber and silent. The others told me of how the forest had seemed dreadful to them all day, which only confirms the feeling I have. None of these events are natural and they are related. I will have to keep an eye out. I switched places with Luke again, so he could ride in the comfortable carriage with his beloved Elsa, while I curled up in my blanket on our own cart, sharing my mind and vision with Fiachna, to better observe our surroundings.   The rest of the day, while cold and wet, passed uneventfully, and when the sun started setting, it suddenly started getting warmer again, still damp, but warm. I first thought this had to be connected to the rest, again this sudden change in weather, but it turns out the valley we are camping in tonight has its own microclimate. At least that is what Luke told us. We had reached the valley and village of Rosebloom. A hamlet rather than a village though, with a single street and a handful of houses. But so beautiful in its eternal spring, with thornless roses growing along all of the houses. Due to a pool of boiling water at the edge of the village, and I assume more of it underneath the rest of the valley, the weather here is always warmer and wet. The only other important feature of the valley of eternal spring, is a castle sitting on the opposite side, more like a palace, small and elegant and beautiful.   Onvyr let us know that he had arranged for us to camp at the edge of the village tonight, something I guess he could have informed us off beforehand. And then sent us into the village to find Hector’s store to inform him we have arrived and to gather the supplies he had arranged for. Hector being the unofficial leader of the village. Finding his house wasn’t hard, as it is the largest one in the hamlet. The inside was filled with boxes of goods and supplies, and a young shy little girl named Anna, who dropped the book she had been reading to get her grandfather, Hector. The older man greeted us warmly and showed us the supplies Onvyr had arranged for us. When we arrived back at the camp, a small party involving the rest of the villagers and the caravan had already broken out, and of course the rest joined in eagerly, especially Liliana and Alistan. I wonder if they know that being a knight involves a lot less partying and a lot more doing your duty. On the other hand, maybe they are right to indulge in the good things of life while they can. Who am I to judge what they enjoy?   As these parties are not really my thing, I decided to take the opportunity to have a stroll around the village and valley, and up to the castle. In the village there is not much to see except the lovely thornless rose bushes and the boiling pool. The pool itself is a fissure in the ground which is filled up with water. Luke had told us it is a remnant from the time the world was destroyed and remade. As I checked it out, I noticed movement in the steam surrounding the fissure and recognised the shapes as steam mephits, little elementals with a volatile temper. So best to leave them be.   The only other interesting thing to see in the valley is the castle so I headed in that direction. Before long I noticed Gael and Dadroz also heading that way, so I waited on the side of the path for them to catch up. It doesn’t surprise me that they had decided to skip the party also, especially Gael. Maybe I need to spend more time with the elf. As we approached the castle, we noticed how new and pristine it looked, as if it had been built yesterday, or if someone spent a lot of time cleaning it. As the other two stood there admiring the stonework, I used the knocker to announce our arrival. Shortly after the door was answered by an older man, the butler I presume and I explained who we were and why we had come. Before he could go and tell his master of our arrival however, the lord of the castle showed up at the door himself. A young knight named Flinn. And when I say young knight, this man seemed to have stepped straight out of the fairy tales. A genuine prince charming.   Flinn invited us in, to share a meal with him. He truly was a wonderful host and the first knight I have come to admire I admit. He really seems to be the romantic ideal. Flinn told us he had been given the valley and castle by the king himself, for performing vital duties. But now he is rather bored as the village runs itself and the hunters take care of all the threats. He doesn’t even join the party in the village because he knows the villagers will act differently around him. All of this is very noble of him, and I suggested that this gives him leeway to find his own path here, seeing as he doesn’t really have many duties he needs to attend to. The rest of the evening, and a good part of the night, we spent on food and talking. I left the questioning mostly to my companions, while enjoying their presence and a good meal. Gael asked me what I intended to do in Keralon, and he was a bit disappointed by my reply I am afraid. But it made me think. With all that is going on, it feels wrong to be away from home, to not be able to help or solve this riddle. I hope by the time I come back, it won’t be too late.   It was well after midnight when we finally decided to go to bed, so I sent Fiachna to alert Luke that we would be staying here so he needed worry. Not that I think he would. He probably spent the entire evening hanging on Elsa’s every word, dancing the night away in her arms.   Dated 2nd of Lug, Year 121 era of the Tree

Entry two: The bramble

Dear diary,   I believe there are a few matters I should attend to, regarding Luke and Elsa for one, and the worrisome abundance of Reinards in the forest lately. But I am getting ahead of myself.   In villages like ours, parties for joyous occasions like the coming of age of the youngsters, is an excuse for excessive drinking and rowdiness. The later it becomes, the more inebriated everyone becomes, so as soon as I had said my hellos and did my round, I found myself a quiet spot away from the festival to have a closer look at the dagger Terrin had gifted me. It turns out to be actually magical in nature. I will proudly turn this into my very first Athame as soon as I am capable of doing so.   When I returned to the party, Terrin had shown up and took us to the side for his parting speech. He used some illusion magic to shield us from view and hearing, which is how these speeches keep a secret, and then imparted us with a final task, one we are free to do as we choose. Of course all of us agreed to do it anyway, even though it actually poses mortal danger.   We were to venture into the Bramble, to an ancient ruin of the long lost Fae kingdom of Immerglade. Before this place was Tarn, or even humans lived here, the fae ruled these lands. However the kingdom of Immerglade fell to a rival fae empire, that of Neverhold, and now the Bramble and the ruins within are all that remain of its former glory. Our task? To venture to the ruin and solve the riddle that we will find there. Not an easy task. The bramble is dangerous, poisonous thorns await those who stray from the path, and dangerous creatures lurk there. And interestingly, a prophecy tells that one day, a mortal who solves the riddle will become the new ruler of Immerglade.   As we got ready to leave, Terrin gave us a final parting gift, a hint to the riddle.   “Forward, Backward, Upside down. Given time, same is the sound”   It made little sense to me at the start, but I was sure as soon as we saw the actual riddle, it would all come together. The trek to the ruin itself proved to be uneventful as Gael led us skillfully along the path. As we arrived there, I noticed some of the thorns starting to move and take shape, turning into humanoid figures. Guardians of the ruins I presume as they attacked us on sight. Poor Ileas went down quickly, once again, but Liliana rushed in to save her. A harsh fight ensued, but other than Ileas, we managed fairly easily. As the last of the blights went down, we noticed a majestic stag looking over us from a distance, its pelt white as snow and its antlers gleaming golden. For some reason a Cernunnon, an intelligent fae deer, had been watching over us. Even more surprising, Gael seemed to be familiar with it. The two spoke shortly and the Cernunnon, named Sylvesse, told us it was just there to watch for now.   Inside the ruins we found four runes circling a menhir. The runes depicted a rising sun, a sun at noon, a setting sun and midnight ... .and as soon as I saw them, the words made sense. The riddle is a Palindrome, a word that is spelled the same forwards, backwards and upside down… like for instance Noon. The menhir itself serves as a sundial, so when Luke stood in the right position to let the shadow of the menhir fall on the rune depicting noon, a chest appeared at the foot of the menhir. The chest was filled with stones, all bearing a marking, like a sundial, and Luke told us that there was evocation magic in them. We each decided to take only one of the stones, and leave the rest in there.   Sylvesse was waiting for us when we came out. Apparently the Cernunnon is Gael’s mentor and friend. Quite the friend to have I would say. It promised to shadow us on the first part of our trip, to see us safe. Before we left, I quickly created a shamble from some twigs, stone and some rope I carried around and hung it from its antlers. A gift of appreciation, which it accepted.   When we arrived back at the village, most of the party had died down, so we decided to go and have a few hours of sleep before our big trip in the morning.   As we made ready to join the caravan with our newly acquired horse and cart, we noticed one unknown person there, barking orders at the others. An older looking elf named Onvir. And I mean an older looking elf, not just old, which they all seem to be. Apparently he was hired to lead the caravan on this trip, and he seemed glad for the assistance Alistan obviously offered. So we will be scouting ahead of the caravan on this trip.   Before we left, Edna showed up. She informed us that she was not joining the caravan, hence why they hired the old elf. But she wanted to gift us with a reward for aiding her with the traps. So she handed a finely crafted bow to Gael.   Then we finally departed and we spent the morning scouting ahead for any danger. I spent most of my time sharing my senses with Fiachna, to better observe what is going on, and keep an eye on the caravan itself also, but nothing happened the first few hours. When we made camp at noon, Edward, the son of Lord Colline, came up to us and asked if he could join us at the front of the caravan instead of riding his cozy couch with his sister. I saw the opportunity, even if my brother didn’t, so I quickly whispered in his ear to propose he keep the fair lady company. Elsa and Edward agreed to this. This is one of the reasons why I will spend some of my day tomorrow with the girl instead of my brother. I have questions for her. Not with regards to Luke. While I will surely be the one to mend his broken heart, once again, that is between him and Elsa. No, I am more curious why she sleeps so much.   So after Edward and Luke switched places, we departed again, and the afternoon was as uneventful as the morning had been, right up until Gael and I spotted a campfire up ahead. Our brave ranger decided to go and check it out, while I kept an eye out through Fiachna. What he found was a campsite where four Reinards were mugging a human traveler. Yet again these Reinards, which is why, next time we encounter them, we need to capture one alive. Mental note to tell the rest. Gael, brave and foolish Gael, didn’t wait for the rest as he stepped in to intervene. I informed the others and Edward and Ileas darted off rapidly with Alistan and me in tow, while Liliana and Dadroz rushed to the caravan to alert them.   When we arrived, Gael was fighting off the Reinards desperately, and it took the intervention of his friend and mentor Sylvesse to keep him alive. After we arrived the fight was over quickly though, especially as Edward proved to be quite the capable swordsman.   The man who was being mugged introduced himself as Robert Talespinner, a bard “extraordinaire”, as he says himself, and he was very grateful for us, or rather Gael, coming to his rescue. As he is also on his way to Hillfield, he will join us in the morning.     Dated 1st of Lug, Year 121 era of the Tree

Entry one: The trials

Dear diary,   As we are about to set out into the world, on our journey through life, I've decided to keep a journal. I know my brother is doing the same, or rather has already been doing so for a while, and it might be interesting to compare notes later in life. Speaking of my brother, of course I had to wait for him on this important morning of this important day. He absolutely needed to be dressed in his best outfit, hair done perfectly, boots shiny. Because one of the many girls in the village might be drawn to him. They tend to do so, even though it never ends well and I end up having to mend his broken heart. Again. But I do so happily every single time. He is my brother and I love him, and I hope to see him happy some day.   So after he took his time to groom himself, Luke and I headed to the inn to meet the rest of the youth and get out mission from Edna. Unsuprisingly, the eager duo Alistan and Liliana were already there, together with the little satyr Ileas, who seems to tail them. Edna explained what we needed to do, which is spend the day roaming the village and surroundings and help wherever we can. Most of these chores are routine, like disabling some traps, setting the tables for the feast or cleaning out the market. The only unusual thing was trying to find the hidden entrance to the tunnels in the mill, something no-one has ever managed to do. And neither did we. Maybe some youth in the future will manage. I will try and keep the rest from exposing the entry if they decide to go looking for it at some later stage.   When we were almost finished with the chores we stopped by the chickenfarm on the way back, as it was going to be our last stop, as requested by the farmer himself. When we arrived the farm was under attack from rabid foxes however! And neither Jeb nor corkscrew were anywhere to be seen! We fought off the foxes and then found Jeb unconscious in the farm. We revived him and learned that he had been attacked by Reynards, a sort of humanoid foxes akin to gnolls. They had kidnapped corkscrew and set the foxes on the chickens. So we tracked them down, thinking the matter urgent, and found their camp not too far out. Before I had the chance to try and talk to them however, we got spotted and a fight broke out. We won, even though some took injuries, and Ileas got knocked unconscious. Sadly the second mistake we made was not take a prisoner and find out what was going on. I think we may need some more moderation in this overeager group of youngsters.   Jeb was obviously delighted we brought back his companion and guard pseudodragon, and Edna was there too, happy we came back safely and a bit angry that we hadn't called in help. I must add that it didn't cross any of our minds to go for help. But it ended well so we could go to the party after wards.   The party itself was typical of course, lots of food and drinks, free for us as we'll be setting out on our journey. I spent my evening talking to the villagers and having a good conversation with Varr Millerson, someone all the girls swoon over. I think he was happy to be drawn away from their attention for a little bit at least. And of course at some point Luke decided to try his luck with Elsa Colline, the daughter of Lord Colline. Another broken heart incoming I thought, but Alistan also decided to have his chance at the same time. For a moment I thought that his chivarly would have him make way for Luke, being so eager to be a shining knight, but I guess his youthful lust got the better of him. I can't blame him really, especially not because he's the one who won her good graces. Poor Luke had to settle for dancing with the mother.   All in all, not a bad day   Dated 30th of Daga, Year 121 era of the Tree
submit to reddit
Article template
Character
World
Irminsul
Author
Milura
Publication Date
6 Feb, 2024
Creation Date
6 Feb, 2024
Last Update Date
6 Feb, 2024
Visibility
Public
Views
50
Favorites
Comments
0
Work In Progress

Comments

Please Login in order to comment!

Find your way!

Resources

WHO WE ARE

LEGAL

Get the news

Our Shop

Development

EVENTS

REACHING OUT

A BIG THANK YOU

To all our Our Patrons for their unwavering love and support.

For the amazing images. His Titanship Christopher Dravus of Ironrise Games, Our Revered Deity Basic Dragon / Rin & His Majesty Caeora