Dear diary,
That night, Lady Rootskewer came to me in dreams.
She appeared not as a nightmare, but as a presence — half-shadow, half-root, her eyes gleaming like moonlight through moss. She shared what I had long sought: the truth of the primordial spirits. I will not commit those secrets to paper; if this diary ever finds its way into the wrong hands, the cost would be too great. But suffice it to say, the revelation turned the world sideways. As a bard would say, the plot thickens — though this is no song worth singing.
What she did allow me to speak of was far more immediate. Eileen Inkheart — one of the hags — has been corrupted by something older than language, a power without a name. Under its sway, she turned Auntie Patty to her cause, hoping to wrest control of the coven for herself. With their number dwindled to four, the balance they once held is breaking; Sister Willow and Brother Stalker stir in their prison. And now, it seems, I have been marked — a likely candidate to fill their ranks, and a target for Eileen’s ambition.
Morning found me bleary and hollow-eyed, my mind still tangled in the dream’s roots. Over breakfast, I told the others what I could — the warning about Eileen Inkheart, nothing more. The rest is knowledge too heavy to share, and too dangerous to repeat.
The replies to my letters waited for me like ghosts. Each carried the same tone: quiet anger, restrained resolve. We will not act in haste, they said, as if fury were a thing one could simply store away for later. I sighed inwardly. I do not ask for recklessness. I ask only that they feel — that they let the fire breathe, if only for a moment.
By midday we were breaking camp, our caravan winding south along the rim of the Lorewood. Hillfield lay far beyond, past the haunted trees and the scar of the river. Before we left, Alistan, Liliana, and Ileas asked leave to visit their brother’s grave one last time. It felt right to grant it, though something in my chest whispered caution.
Hours later, they returned — not alone, but with Rachnar and the cart of supplies he had promised. Alistan looked tight-jawed, his usual composure cracked. When pressed, he admitted that knights had found them at the gravesite. Visiting had been deemed a “breach of our exile.” Only his silver tongue and measured temper had convinced them to let the matter rest this once.
The words hung in the air like a curse.
One warning, one reprieve. And the road ahead growing darker by the mile.
Rachnar brought grim news with him. Martial law had been declared in Keralon. The Circle of the Long Table had resisted their forced disbanding. Some were slain in the attempt; the rest were chained and carried off to the dungeons beneath the city.
Another nail in the coffin of a kingdom that once called itself noble.
I made a silent promise then: once our people were safe, we would return for them. We need allies — now more than ever — and the Long Table deserves a home where honor still means something.
While we prepared to break camp, Luke asked Ileas to send a message to Lumeria, to see if she’d survived her banishment. Her answer came swiftly and predictably — silk and venom. “I’m back under King Ulther’s care,” she said, and when Luke asked if she wanted us to rescue her, she replied, “Ew. Free me when you have a castle again.”
I could have laughed if I hadn’t wanted to scream.
Is this really the creature my brother’s heart still clings to? I know I promised to think about rescuing her from Immerhold on our journey south, but I think we both know my answer has not changed. Nor will it.
The rest of the day passed beneath the sullen sky as we followed the Emperor’s Road, our caravan winding slowly south. Five days until we reach the crossing at Logvale, and Hillfield beyond that. Five days to think about everything we’ve lost.
Not long after setting out, a patrol appeared ahead — armored riders flying the royal crest. A familiar sight in the north, but never this far along the road. They did not stop us, only watched in silence as we passed, their gazes heavy and unblinking.
Even as their silhouettes vanished behind us, I could still feel their eyes on my back.
Let them watch.
We are gone — for now. But one day, we will return.