Dear diary,
Morning came. As the others packed up, I turned toward the altar—and froze. A doll sat there. Not just any doll. The same doll I had seen in my dream. The one I had carried as a child. Somehow, Sister Willow had returned it to me.
I stepped forward, heart pounding, and picked it up. Familiar. Worn. Real. Around its neck hung a bracelet with Six slots for charms. Only one had been filled—an owl-shaped charm, its surface smooth beneath my fingertips. Curious, I let magic flow through me, seeking to understand its nature. Knowledge bloomed in my mind:
An Old Way Charm.
It granted sight—in darkness, across distances. A gift. A warning. A tool. I slipped the bracelet onto my wrist as I whispered a thank you to Sister Willow.
Luke, ever curious, wandered over, his sharp eyes taking in the doll.
"You recognize it?" he asked.
I told him about the dream, the memory. He frowned, thoughtful, trying to grasp something just out of reach.
"I remember you carrying it everywhere," he admitted. "I thought it was silly. We fought over it a lot."
His expression darkened slightly.
"But I don’t remember what happened to it."
Neither did I.
I carefully packed the doll away into my pack.
Then, we moved on.
The weather mirrored the land—cold, damp, and unrelenting. A constant drizzle seeped into our clothes, soaking the already sodden ground beneath our boots. The day dragged on—wet, miserable, uneventful. By evening, the terrain changed. The wetlands gave way to towering trees, their dark silhouettes standing silent and watchful.
Latebra Velora was close.
We found a patch of higher ground, slightly less waterlogged, and set up camp.
During the first watch, Gael noticed a large shadow shifting against the horizon. But it was too distant, too vague—just a flicker of movement in the night.
By the time Liliana and I took our watch, the shadow was gone. Maybe Gael had imagined it. Or maybe it was still out there, waiting.
The night remained quiet, but my thoughts did not. Liliana and I talked. Really talked. About what lies ahead. About what we might lose. She confided in me things I will keep in my heart and mind, but will not write down.
Sorry to disappoint you, brother.