A simple, leatherbound journal found in the dresser of Rikka Egest's bedroom.
The Fifteenth Day of Spring
Brother Mason has urged me to keep a journal, so that I may exorcise the ghosts that haunt me. He says that in writing down your thoughts, you thereby rid yourself of them and may find peace. I do not think that this will help at all, if "help" is what I need, but I will try my best, if for nothing else but to appease him.
It is hard to lose someone and have them in your memories, in the back of your mind. They linger there, and you feel their presence, even though they're gone. It's sad, obviously Rikka! but it's a sadness that encompasses everything. I was watching Gizela today, the way she stands there, waiting for Camden to return, when we all know he won't. I know her thoughts. It's different when you are simply separated from your love. You can go about your day in a normal fashion, and sometimes you are overwhelmed by their absence. Sometimes you just want to feel them, something tangible, and you do what you can to teach patience to yourself. Brother Mason often says that Mitharu grants the greatest rewards to those who are patient, however, it is hard, and may Mitharu guide her when she finally knows the truth. Then, she will know a sadness that does not pay visits as a stranger, but as an unwelcome bedfellow, another shadow, a mold on your will, and a pall on your life.
The Twenty Third Day of Spring
Today I thought I heard children's voices near the outskirts of town. I know it now for what it was, although I did not recognize it then, nor knew it for aught but children playing. No, it was nothing but the ghosts of my children calling to their mother. There are, of course, no other children in this forgotten place. Gorhart feels as barren as an empty room. It is lifeless here, for all the magic and wonder of the Fae, even the people. They trudge towards their doom with a resigned melancholy. They are all hiding, or running from something or someone. They are tired, and waiting for Mitharu to end their petty pacing. It is a strange feeling to know grief as intimately as I do, and to see it in the eyes of so many. Even Brother Mason, the most vibrant shadow of our lonely town, hides a pain. Despite his best attempts to keep it hidden, I have often seen it. He is just like all of us, a toy of Fate's cruel play. He will not speak to me about it. I fear it will consume him, and he will no longer be able to bring the joy and happiness to the people here that so desperately need it. He will be just another restless soul.
The Twenty Fifth Day of Spring
Ost Ordura is here again, and again I am reminded of war. Has it not taken enough from me already? Does it need to steal what little solace I can find here in this lost village? I have half a mind to run him out of town. I may do so today if he tests my patience. I would be doing Gizela a favor, no less. How he dares come here, after all the trouble this war has cost, I cannot understand. I imagine someday the war itself will arrive at my door. Maybe this time it will claim my life instead of the ones I love. Brother Mason would not like to hear it, but sometimes I wish for that, and who doesn't? To see Avery or Gref again? To hold my sons in my arms again? Better to be the one mourned than the one mourning.