Dear Diary,
Breakfast was brief and quiet. Too quiet. I barely touched my food. The weight in my stomach wasn’t hunger; it was frustration. Disappointment still hung over me like a stormcloud, thick and sour. I wasn’t ready to talk to the others. Not after yesterday.
Then Gael, with all the sensitivity of a charging boar, casually announced that he wanted to bring Dynia with us into the Neverhold.
I nearly choked on my tea.
He said it like it was a thoughtful, reasonable idea—like bringing the person he loved into a region ruled by a king who most likely wants us dead was somehow wise or necessary. The sheer stupidity of it would’ve been laughable if it hadn’t been so dangerous. Why, in all the Realms, would we put her in the crosshairs like that? We were walking into a trap, not a stroll through a moonlit glade. And the Neverhold? That cursed place is the last place I want to see her go. She’s not ready. None of us are.
But before I could voice any of that, Vivienne entered the room, boots clicking sharply against the floor.
She gave Dynia one look—and frowned.
“There’s something... off about her,” she said, tilting her head. “A glamour. Subtle, but it’s there.”
The silence that followed crackled.
Thankfully, everyone had their own plans for the day—our one day to prepare before we entered the Neverhold. After that, there would be no more time for bickering or doubts. Just survival.
Liliana and Alistan headed off into the city, hoping for news on Galiene. Dadroz went with them to pay his respects in the Necropolis. Gael, ever predictable, tagged along. I suspected it had less to do with reverence and more to do with finding Dynia another shiny trinket.
As for me, I stayed behind at Wolf’s Rest. It had been too long since I walked these halls—my halls. I had responsibilities here. Duties I’d neglected while saving kingdoms and slaying knights.
So I laced up my boots, threw on my cloak, and went out to do my rounds.
I spent the better part of the afternoon walking the streets of Wolf’s Rest, exchanging quiet words with familiar faces. Many of the townsfolk were worried—though most were too polite to say it outright. They’d grown used to our comings and goings, but this latest departure had stirred fresh unease. Not knowing when we’d return—or if we would—tugged at their peace like a loose thread.
Still, a few kind words and honest smiles did much to ease their concerns. I made a point to listen, to reassure where I could. Small gestures, but ones that mattered.
While making my rounds, I couldn’t help but notice the growing number of carts under construction. Not a few—dozens. It struck me as strange. We didn’t have that many skilled craftsmen in town, and yet the work was moving swiftly, with laborers working under the guidance of our best carpenters.
When I asked about it, one of the workers, hands thick with sap and sawdust, told me some wealthy woman had shown up offering good coin for the job. No name, but she was described as older, with faded red hair and a dress far too fine for a forest village. Apparently, she’d taken up residence in the old hag’s cabin on the outskirts of the woods.
That gave me pause.
The hag’s cabin had been abandoned since our encounter wih Aunty Pattie . Anyone with sense avoided it. For someone to move in by choice—especially someone with wealth and poise—was a puzzle I didn’t like the shape of. We’d have to investigate before we left for the Neverhold. There was no doubt in my mind.
I turned the thought over as I made my way back to Wolf’s Rest.
The house was quiet when I returned, the others still off in Keralon. I took the chance to speak with Dynia in private. She met me with her usual gentle grace, and to my relief, she listened with an open heart. I told her the truth—about the danger ahead, the unpredictability of the Neverhold, and the risk to her life if she joined us.
She didn’t argue. She simply nodded, her eyes a little sad but steady. Dynia, for all her softness, was no fool. She agreed to stay behind where it was safe.
Later, when Gael returned, she told him herself. I saw the flicker of disappointment cross his face, but he didn’t push. He just took her hand and nodded. Perhaps, in his heart, he knew it too.
Over dinner, I shared what I’d learned about the woman in the woods. The mention of red hair and the hag’s cabin caught everyone’s attention, and it didn’t take much convincing for them to agree—we’d pay the place a visit first thing in the morning.
With that decided, I excused myself.
The rest of the evening I spent alone in the garden. The night air was cool and quiet, the stars peeking through the canopy like curious eyes. I let the silence wrap around me, grounding myself in the one place that still felt wholly mine.
We were leaving again soon. But for now, this was home.