Alone among enemies

1st Judicday of Spring's Birth, Second Age 1854: The Isilthar Magic Academy is behind us, its hollow halls stirring memories I can barely grasp—memories that were once ours, Aranesi’s and mine. The first floor was eerily empty: an arena for testing students, a dormitory, a feast hall, a classroom, all silent. Each hall echoed with her absence, a void where her thoughts once mingled with mine. We ascended to the second level through a teleportation mirror, only to stumble into a magical fire trap Malakar had triggered. I threw myself into disabling the runes, working alongside the others, and with our combined arcane knowledge we were able to disable the trap, though not without some painful burns. Writing this brings back a faint echo of how Aranesi aided me in situations like this. Without her, I feel half-blind, her quiet insights gone. How do I face this alone? The third floor brought us face-to-face with the soul eater, a monstrosity clutching stolen souls—including ours. The fight was brutal, its minions swarming, but we struck them down. It was good to have the rest of the group with us, while we fought, memories came flooding back as to why Aranesi and I fell to these creatures the last time. Not only were they resistant to physical blows, they also muddled the minds of those they struck, making spellcasting difficult. Thankfully they were overwhelmed by the sheer volume of power the group's spellcasters brought to bear and fell one by one. As I gathered the soul gems, planning their release, the soul stitcher slowly made an appearance in the middle of the chamber-a divine being would rarely act so directly, offering to mend us—but at a cost. Only one of us could remain in this body; the other would pass to the spirit realm. Aranesi and I argued, our voices tearing at each other, each wanting the other to stay. Lady Aria’s voice cut through, firm and clear: it was unfair to force us to share the same body when freedom was possible, and a reunion-even if distant-would happen eventually. Her words burned, but they were true. Aranesi, my other half, always saw deeper, but I’m the one who acts. With wrenching sorrow, we decided I would stay, my action-driven nature better suited to Hithfaer’s needs. Our goodbye was a knife to my heart—her promise to wait in the spirit realm lingers, but it doesn’t fill the emptiness. She’s gone, and I’m hollow. We pressed on, my steps heavy with loss, and found a foundry at the academy’s heart—a magical forge capable of crafting wonders far beyond my home laboratory. It was a marvel, but it felt dim without Aranesi’s curiosity to share it. Determined to leave no threat behind, we descended the other tower, walking into a room of aggressive constructs. We fought them off, though they drained our magical reserves, each strike a distraction from the ache within. What would she have seen in this forge? Could it have been a new beginning for us both? Now it’s just me, carrying her memory into a future she won’t see.
 
We set up camp and began disassembling the forge for transport while we waited for a report from Selestiel. She returned, speaking of a ruined city teeming with undead and living alike. We packed the forge as best we could and began the journey home. On the way, a werewolf—sent by a vampire lady who claimed ownership of the arcane academy—caught up to us, demanding answers. Lady Aria’s negotiation disarmed him without a fight, her skill a reminder of what words can do when blades pause. We reached Hithfaer on the 3rd Amerysday of Winter’s End, weary but intact. Aranesi would have loved dissecting that ruined city’s secrets, piecing together its story. Without her, I’ll fight for us both, but the weight of her absence grows heavier. Will I find a way to honor her in what lies ahead?
 
Today's council meeting was full of planning for our next steps, most of it revolving around learning more about Luthais and his plans. I’ll face it as I must—alone, but driven. I have volunteered to infiltrate the undead city, we have reasons to suspect that Lady Zyvara made her home there and Luthais is operating out of that location. He is still out there, and any new information brings us closer to finding a way to stop him and whatever dangerous plans he is setting in motion. Lady Aria believes my mission is suicide, but she did not forbid me from undertaking it. I will prove my skill and my worth, whatever it takes. But every step feels like betraying Aranesi, like I’m living a life meant for two. I’ll keep moving, for Hithfaer, for her, until we meet again in the spirit realm.
 
5th Amerysday of High Spring, Second Age 1855: With help from Nyvressa and Nauriel we’ve built a detailed profile of Zyvara, piecing together her movements and influence, and executed a stealthy exit from Hithfaer to avoid drawing attention. The inland roads were quiet—too quiet, as if Eraneth itself held its breath. Twenty days of hard travel over land brought us to our destination, every step a reminder of Aranesi’s absence. Her keen mind would’ve mapped this journey in half the time, but I pushed forward, driven by the need to act. Without her, every decision feels heavier, like I’m carrying both our purposes.
 
I slipped into the city past undead sentries, their hollow gazes missing me entirely. I had to remove the Drustanus' holy symbol from my mask so its glow in the presence of undead wouldn't draw unwanted attention. This place isn’t a true city—more a sprawling compound than a living urban hub, with little industry or vibrancy. The air feels heavy, oppressive, like a tomb masquerading as a home. Posing as a half-elf servant, I blended into the lower ranks, but the human slaves here—mostly a servant class, with manual labor left to necromancer-controlled undead—were harder to mimic. No signs of grand magical works turned up, which surprised me; I’d expected more from a place tied to Luthais, signs of preparation of some occult ritual, or traces of magic from an arcane forge-he did try to access the one we took from the arcane school after all. It took ten days of careful work to secure a safehouse, every moment spent moving, watching, acting to stay unseen. Aranesi would’ve loved dissecting this place’s strange hierarchy. Without her, I’m forced to trust my instincts, but they’re sharp enough. This city hides something and I am determined to find out what.
 
Gathering solid intel took another six days. The slaves were tight-lipped, wary of outsiders, but I mapped the manor’s rhythms—staff routines, guard shifts, the pulse of its daily life. Patience isn’t my strength, but action without knowledge is reckless, so I endured. Aranesi would’ve thrived here, her analytic mind finding connections where there appeared to be none. Three days of trying to land legitimate work in the palace got me nowhere—the head of staff turned me away, and pushing further risked suspicion. So, I acted: I abducted a maid. The job was tougher than planned, a scuffle leaving me no choice but to eliminate her and hide the body in the safehouse. Taking her identity after a few days of absence raised eyebrows among the staff, but I wove convincing lies to cover my tracks.
 
Four days in the palace as a servant, and I turned chaos into opportunity. Slipping between identities, I stirred mischief—petty distractions that let me lift and copy the master keys, unlocking every level of the manor. Among the elite, I confirmed the Sol Variar’s presence, thriving in this age, with Luthais hailed as their prophet and Zyvara basking in his favor. The intel is gold, but it’s hard-won, each step shadowed by the emptiness where Aranesi’s insights should be. She’d have unraveled their beliefs, found the cracks in their dogma. I’m left to act where she’d have thought, but I’ll make it count.
 
Eventually it all fell apart. I was caught slipping out of Luthais’s study, his journal in hand—damning evidence of his plans. The person I was impersonating walked in, and called the alarm rang out before I could react. My escape plan kicked in; I made it to the safehouse, but the city’s on high alert, hunting me. Every shadow feels like a threat now, but I’ll outmaneuver them. I have to. Aranesi, you’d have warned me to check twice, to move slower. Luthais' journal speaks of retaining one's memories through the cycle of rebirth but at what cost? The knowledge that we will remain together in the next life is enough to keep me on the path. I’ll fight my way out, for Hithfaer, for Aranesi, until I can bring justice to Luthais, each step forward bringing me closer to our reunion.
 
I reported my findings to Lady Aria, she seemed pleased, though she voiced concerns about being discovered. I reassured her that I covered my tracks well, and she accepted it, but I wish she had more trust in my abilities. Unfortunately carrying the knowledge of a lifetime and a half in a body of barely over fifty comes with its challenges.
 
I still need to check in with Zhyrissa if she's had any success with the Oneiric Veil and see how the Network's been doing during my almost two months long absence, but those can wait. Now that I've had my long missed bath, I can finally rest and handle the rest tomorrow.