Dear Diary,
I had told the others I meant to revisit Sister Willow’s shrine, hoping the ritual there might draw out more secrets from my dagger. It wasn’t far, and I had planned to go alone—quiet work for quiet company—but of course they refused to let me. In hindsight, I suppose I’m glad they did.
Preparations came first. Alistan made the trip to Keralon to deliver the books he’d claimed from the Black Knight’s camp, placing them in Rachnar’s care for study. Luke busied himself splitting his attention between assigning tasks to his apprentice Anna and convincing Lumeria not to tag along. The latter effort ended with Lumeria marching off in a storm of indignation, her huff trailing behind her like a small, petulant cloud.
I’ll spare you the drawn-out awkwardness of Gael and Dynia’s farewell—though the sidelong glances and hesitant pauses were enough to make me wish for an early frost. Eventually, we were on the road north.
A few hours in, we passed the place where we’d slain the infernal dragon engine. The mages of Keralon had long since stripped it for parts, leaving only the scar in the land. Luke pointed out patches of strange, twisted flowers blooming along the edges—a riot of color bent unnaturally, their shapes warped by the demonic magic that had spilled here. I gathered a few blooms. Corruption or not, there might be something useful hidden in their nature.
The further we walked, the more the forest felt… wrong. Autumn should have been curling its fingers through the Lorewood by now, but here the air was thick with summer’s warmth, leaves still lush and green. The songs of insects and birds rose too brightly for the season. It felt alive in a way that wasn’t quite natural—like the woods were breathing in time with something unseen. We began to notice the missing runestones too: the old border markers meant to keep the feywild’s influence at bay. Many had been shattered, uprooted, or simply gone. Without them, the edges between worlds were blurring, and the feywild was slowly winning.
Evening came cloaked in cold and rain, the kind that seeps into your bones if you let it. Thankfully, Luke’s camping spell kept the damp and chill at bay, even if it couldn’t keep out the heaviness settling over us.
During first watch, Gael noticed Liliana and Alistan tossing in their sleep, but didn’t think much of it. Nightmares aren’t exactly rare these days. During second watch—something Liliana and I often share—our attention was drawn to our brothers. Both were restless, faces twitching as if caught between fear and anger. Liliana’s frown deepened when she spotted a tattoo on Alistan’s shoulder—a wolf staring up at the moon—that hadn’t been there before. Instinctively, she checked her own shoulder and found one too: a toad, its round eyes unblinking.
I examined myself but found no new markings. While I was still puzzling over it, Liliana closed her eyes and reached out with her senses. “Fey and fiend influence,” she murmured. “On all of us.” That was enough to rouse the others. Luke bore the mark of a bat, Gael an owl. The pattern was unsettling, though the meaning was beyond us. I wondered aloud if this was the work of King Ulther—perhaps echoing the Council of Nobles and their animal masks. But speculation got us nowhere, so I suggested we sleep and face it in the morning.
They say sleep brings answers. That night, it did.
I dreamed I was a little girl again, wandering far from the path in the Lorewood, ignoring my mother’s warnings. The air was sweet with flowers until the trees ahead grew dark and close-knit, a black copse that drank the light. I wanted to step forward, to discover what lay in the shadows—but fear rooted me in place.
Then they came: the wolf, the bat, the owl, the toad. They watched me with eyes that seemed to know more than I did. Sensing my hesitation, I asked the owl to go ahead first—its keen sight could pierce the dark. But it didn’t return. I sent the bat next, thinking it could navigate without eyes and warn us of hidden dangers. It too was lost. The wolf was my third choice—brave, strong, fearless. It vanished into the gloom and never came back.
Finally, I turned to the toad. I admitted I was afraid, that I didn’t want to face the dark alone. The toad blinked once, then hopped forward. I followed, and together we crossed into the shadows.
That was when I woke.