The island problem lead nowhere. Locals were sick—fey curse, by the looks of it. We’re keeping our distance now.
Ailwyn pushed for us to help. Said it might be the only way we’ could leave. Smiley handled it. Don’t know what he gave to the archfey, not sure if I want to know. Whatever it was, it worked.
Still. This place lingers in the bones. I'm cold and tired. Feels like we missed something, even if the trail’s gone cold. I have a bad itch about this. We should tell Flotnar. Let him make of it what he will.
We took a white dragon's heart and hide. Melmoth claims a dragon's consciousness resides in the remains of their hearts.
At least we made it back by morn.
Eliza’s a sorcerer. Something’s awakened in her, or something of the short. She’s having visions of upcoming doom. A figure calling her to Illinor. I can only assume what chasing omens does to people. Hope she keeps her eyes on the path, not the horizon.
I don’t speak arcane mumbo jumbo.
Note to self: Ask Simon. Don't touch snow bare handed.