3rd Seojungsday of High Winter, Second Age 1854: Tonight, I opened my heart to Zhyrissa, letting the weight of my thoughts spill out as the fire crackled between us. The ruined academy of magic looms ahead, its secrets tugging at me—not just for what we might find, but for what it could mean for Hithfaer, for Aranesi, for me. Could its ancient halls hold answers to Luthais’s schemes? Is the Soul Eater that killed me still there? Is it called that because of what it does to souls? Or is it more metaphorical? Are they sustenance to the creature? Or captured and imprisoned. The few mentions of the creature I was able to discover are usually from those who had defeated it, a few accounts of someone's soul being rescued from its clutches, but always shortly after being incapacitated. Not decades later like for us. But we're still here too, not entirely gone, but not entirely complete. Zhyrissa is a good companion, she listened and shared my fears without judgement. She said there's only one thing to do, and what happens after will be dealt with then. I feel happy to have met her. Of course I had to complain about another birthday on the road in a moment of weakness and she promised we'll make up for it after our return. I’d hoped for a moment to breathe, to celebrate with those I care about, not to be chasing ghosts in crumbling ruins. What if this academy reveals something that changes us forever? Aranesi and I have faced so much already—our shared body, our divided paths. Could this be where we find a way to balance it all, or where it unravels? I suppose we'll either celebrate a new start, or there will be nothing left to celebrate. I’ll keep moving forward, blade ready, because standing still isn’t who I am.
5th Judicday of High Winter, Second Age 1854: We reached an altar of Aranye, nestled on a fire ley line, a place that once bubbled as a healing hot spring, now fallen into ruin. Its faded glory spoke of renewal, of spring’s promise even in winter’s grip. I couldn’t help but think of the soul eater we’re bound to face at the academy. Could confronting it be our own renewal, a chance to burn away the doubts and fears that linger in our shared soul? I don’t trust books to tell me how to fight it, but standing at that altar, I felt a spark—maybe action, not study, will forge us anew. If Aranye’s altar is any sign, there’s power in restoring what’s broken. Perhaps facing the soul eater will mend something in us, make us stronger for whatever lies ahead—Luthais, the shadow elves, or beyond.
5th Vaeraleusday of High Winter, Second Age 1854: Today, we found a shadow rift, an unstable portal to the shadow realm pulsing with dark potential. For a moment, I saw the chance to harness it, to create a shadow ley line and turn our enemies’ strength against them. But Lady Aria chose caution, shutting it down—our foes’ ties to shadow run too deep, and she’s right to avoid arming them further. Closing the rift was tough work, but we got it done, sealing off that threat. It made me think of our own torn souls, Aranesi and I, caught between one body and two minds. Shutting the rift felt like stitching a wound—maybe facing the soul eater will be like that, too, a way to heal what’s been split. I can’t shake the thought that all these trials—altars, rifts, academies—are leading us somewhere bigger. If we can heal ourselves, could we heal Hithfaer, too? Restore vitality to the land? Or is Luthais waiting to tear it all open again?