The day feels different. It feels like day. I looked at myself long and hard in the mirror in the bath house today. I did not recognize myself. Knight Sreip sent a message yesterday and mentioned I did not look myself. This shocked me rather and then made me blush for I had spent an evening with our new friend and with that dearest of ones and if I looked so to Sreip, I must surely have done to them.

It was a bitter sweet evening. It started well enough. After some merciless teasing from my sisters which even seemed to affect that dearest of ones, I hurried away to procure some tea: Partly to comfort them and partly to soothe my own nerves. When I met with them above Milltown inn, our friend was already there – keen though I was not to disturb them, I longed to stay for they told me that they were going to relate how the knights came into being.

As soon as their voice filled the room I felt an ease I have not felt in months. Our friend was much engrossed, as was I, in the tale and we all settled to our tea and the story and it felt almost like old times. But the tale does not stop where the knights were created… it drifts to the present and stretches out into the future. With pain I listened to the losing of a King and the finding of a Queen and try as I might, I cannot hide my feelings completely. They are better at it than I, but not so good that I could not feel their pain too.

It is hard to gauge our friend. He seems fascinated with enchantments. From our talk he knows he is no cleric – and that is in no way a slight. It is good to know the path the gods have laid out, whatever it may be. He was fascinated, rightly, with the telling of the tale. I hope the Queen may walk again soon in the lands so that he can see for himself what a woman she is.

That dearest of ones left us. They were speaking in fire and passion. They were pent up and I felt their insides twisting. I do not know whether it was displeasure at my reaction, or whether the telling of it has brought it to the surface again for them too.

When I went to rest the sweet evaporated and the bitter set in with a vengeance. Dreams were real and haunting – I have not dreamed so in a long while. Yet I saw through the night and Sunrifter came again. When He rose it seemed to me it was that dearest of ones I saw behind Him. Cling to that thought, cling to that thought. I pray they are well.

It hurt my eyes, but I managed to spend a whole day away from the darkness. Knight Hojo’s words were matter of fact as always. Find another place to train. I know he is right, but my position feels more complex than that. I loathe it, but I seem to need it at the same time. To be assimilated somehow into the darkness; to fight it from its core. Whenever Balthazar appears in the lands I am overwhelmed by it. I am drawn to the Dark Lands as though I were physically on the end of a particularly long and incomprehensible string from a gremlin pocket. I feel that unless I am striking vicious blows into these vicious creatures I am not doing all I ought.

Yet I stumbled out at the tree in the forest and even that gloomy light seemed to pierce me. I blinked and looked around the forest long and still did not quite manage to convince myself I was free of its Dark Cousin. In Dundee I found myself straying through the town, in and out of the inn, confused and dazed. Then I ran into that dearest of ones, not literally, thank goodness, offering wisdom to a newcomer I have since come to call friend. I saw a softness in their face and I felt a slight thawing as I looked upon it. Then as though He knew I had left His wicked creatures he sent torments for the Crier to call and I found myself in Verthedge. A strange evening followed then as I ran hither and thither, slaying simple creatures by comparison with the ones I have been extinguishing, and then directed by Hojo to help a young woman who seemed brave indeed. I have been out of practice too long. I found it difficult to track her and him, despite his clear markings. Yet I found her, and failed her, as she was spun out of existence briefly to land back at her chosen monument twice.

I think I must have slept upon the forest floor for it seemed as though the light was different when I moved on. I travelled then, sluggish and out of breath, to Milltown to reach a young initiate in need of help. She jested she would have enough hen wings to make quite a meal by the end of the day. It made me think of the young woman and her cookery book, and of that dearest of ones again who is always interested in new ways with ingredients.

Then finally I found myself here: Safe and warm and cocooned. I lay where I fell onto the soft bed. I did not even remove my boots.

Tomorrow…

I wrote two letters to Eldrin and Jake. I suddenly miss them terribly. Whether they will reach them or not is another matter. No one has heard from them in so very long, they could be anywhere. I have sent missives to Richard so many times and received no response. Yet I do have faith that they are safe and well. The gods could not deny so many prayers surely? I did not send another letter to Richard; maybe I should. It is not right to talk about faith and then apply ifs and buts to it. No letters have ever been returned after all. That dearest of ones is studying and travels. I miss them too, as do the whole guild. So many things that everyone has on their minds at present. Life changing for some. I pray for them all.

If it is not a stupid thing to say could it be that horrors are, well, less horrible? My eyes in the gloom of the Dark Lands let them blend into the shadows. It has led to deep wounds and losing blood, but it makes me feel more ‘dead’ about it; less fearful. I feel more out of place at the foot of my Lord’s monument and on the path back from the light into the dark than I do there now. I am now at the stage I was before I awoke that day to find my training wiped from my mind. The Crier calls the names again and again of others who lost far more, yet I still linger as I was. So be it. I cannot do any more than I do. Accept the weakness, dirty my blade in blood.

I have studied these dark walls in great detail. I have wondered again at the golden writing that seems to be lit by Sunrifter Himself. I have thought long on that dreadful night’s events and yet been comforted by the outcome. I feel more inclined to leave the Growlery and our walls and venture back into the Dark Lands. Happier times, despite the Dark Lord’s threatening presence seem to be upon us. It is good to feel the joy radiating from guildkin. Yes, back to battle.