A Leaf-Bound Journal

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Nisah 20, 7788

I'm yellow now.

Should I change my name? I like Yellowen because it keeps the 'wen' part of my name, but it doesn't really flow off the tongue.

Goldwen?

Amberwen is probably the best sounding name and it makes me think of my amber pendant gift, but it's not really an amber colour is it?

Will they make me leave the Priory if my robes are glowing yellow all the time? Maybe I can become a scribe.

Scribewen...

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Dream Painting 3
Nisah 31st, 7788

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Dream Painting 5
Iyar 2nd, 7788

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Dream Painting 7
Iyar 7th, 7788

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Iyar 8, 7788

She might be back. She spoke the words, not me. Nobody else is worried. I am.

Maybe I can do it right this time? Last time I got angry and killed her! Well, she kind of killed me first? Mind battles are weird and confusing. How dare she turn my memory of my home into a battleground!

But maybe that was the wrong thing to do? Maybe if I forgave her I could have found some way to coexist?

I'm trying something new with my paintings. More water, Ephia's Water. Water from the Spring when I'm there. Sometimes some wine or other liquors. Let it flow across the canvas. Allow patterns to emerge. Fingers. Brush. Paint without thinking. Peer into them. Maybe there's meaning in the patterns and shapes that emerge?

Trying to write more. Used to write a lot before.

In Bel-Ishun a dark vine grew,
It was made in a glorious place,
Its brilliance was shining lapis,
Planted beside the water.

To the glorious dwelling,
Which is like a forest,
Its shadow extends,
No man enters its midst.

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Iyar 13, 7788


Imizael. I welcomed you into my heart. You were my sister. You were a member of my new family. You were difficult to know but I still loved you. Even when you were cast out, even when you said cruel and wicked things, even then I did not stop caring for you. I did not stop loving you.

They did such horrible things to you. They laugh at their own wickedness. They laugh at the desecration and defilement of your body. They laugh and say "It's just an autopsy" or "It's only a brain."

They act as if these things are normal. As if it is normal to cut apart a person, to take from them their organs and the things that were part of them in life.

I feel as if I am the mad one! Everyone around me acts as if this is normal. They behave as if this is not an unholy desecration. As if anyone's spirit would not weep and cry in anguish to see their body so!

Where is the respect? Where is the piety for the Twins? Your body has been defiled and I cry and weep.

Why can I never save anyone?

Why can I never protect my family?

Why?

I will do what I can for you Imizael.

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Iyar 18, 7788

They ignore my problems. Whenever it happens they just tell me to leave and go to another room. And then they do politics while I suffer and scream and claws are dragged through my mind. I keep going to them for help and they keep pushing me away. Later. Later. Later.

Then they blame me when the problem gets worse! They say I put the Priory at risk! As if I willingly did anything. I was just doing what they told me! She was right all those months ago. Nobody else cares.

It's hard to forgive people who keep lying to you.

I'll keep trying.

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Iyar 28, 7788

They took my sister from me. They killed her. They cursed her. They cut her open. They took her body apart. They stole pieces from her.

They did all these things to her.

And they act so smug. Instead of showing remorse they are remorseless. Instead of showing compassion they reveal their wickedness.

Again and again.

And I am supposed to forgive them.

Forgive them as they laugh in my ear.

Forgive them as they mock your memory.

Forgive them as they lie and twist the truth.

Forgive them as they scorn my kindness and spit at me.

I don't know if I can.

I want them to pay.

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Visions of Paradise
Iyar 29 7788

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Hziran 3, 7788

Vico threw Lucia's corpse onto the floor. Still and lifeless. She who slew Imizael. She who laughed and mocked her over the bellows. She was dead, and Vico had killed her. He swaggered into the Pyramid like the Tavaskusu, proudly showing off his plumage.

And so the Janissaries beat him.

And so Koji killed him.

There is so little relief here. Only sadness compounded by sadness. Grief over grief.

Layers upon layers of it.

Like the ages of history.

Blood and Sorrow.

What can I do?

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Hziran 5 7788

I messed up I messed up I messed up.

I thought it would work. Maybe it will still work. It has to work.

How can I possibly forgive myself for this?

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Hziran 6 7788

He came all the way from the Spring to defend me. Maybe I should have let him hit Naelin a few times. Maybe she's the sort that really only learns when a lesson is beat into them? After all she said what she said knowing that it was Ashley who told Mae, not me. I forgive her, though. The Sisters are right. It is good and wise to forgive.

Still...

Seeing him standing there so bold and confident makes me realize how soft and meek I have become in this place.

How weak and indecisive I have become.

How can I protect and inspire my people when I am this weak? When I am this uncertain about everything?

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Hziran 9 7788

It hurt me to hear her voice again.
And all the warmth drained from my face.

It pained me to see her face again.
And all the tears welled up in my eyes.

It broke my heart to chase her down.
But my heart was already broken.
What's one more crack?

Is it wrong that I can smile without it feeling fake?

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Hziran 22 7788

The First Blooming went well! Friends and guests came, stories were told, food was shared. I did not know if the Spring would allow the guests to eat or drink of its bounty but it did!

I'm not sure what is going on with Otieyr. Why was he wearing what looked to be iron? Why did Quendi bar him passage? Why won't they tell me what is going on?

Then there was the news and all that came with it. My friends weren't going to tell me - which hurts almost as much as the news itself did. The Sisters would tell me to examine why this hurts so much. Pick it apart. Unravel it like a ball of twine to find the Mystery inside.

I know what is inside the knot.

I know why I stumble.

I know what they want from me.

I don't know if I can give that.

So many things are calling to me. My people need a guardian. The Grandmaster misses my singing. So many branches are open to me. Which one is the right one?

Spring's First Blooming

A long time ago our Mother and our Father grieved.
They grieved and their hearts became filled with sadness.
For in their hearts they desired children.
But alas, they were as barren as the land!
So bereaved were they that they set out on a great journey.
They set out to hear the wisdom of their Master.
For their Master was wise and powerful and the whole realm was his to command.
And so they journeyed, their hearts filled with sadness and despair, but also with the seed of hope.

And so, and so, and so.

And so they journeyed long and far. They eventually reached their Master.
And so they bowed before Him. They told Him of their woes and desires.
And so He looked upon his servants. He saw the Father's sorrow and the Mother's tears.
And so He said to them, "You shall have your children."

And so, and so, and so.

And so He reached a hand out into the world.
And so He plunged a hand into the sands.
And so He dug.
And so He dug.

And so, and so, and so.

And so He scooped up the sand and laid it out in a ring.
And so He scooped until he reached the clay beneath the sand.
And so He scooped up the clay and laid it out upon the sand.
And so He formed the clay into the shapes of bodies.
And so He scooped down into the clay until he found the Spring.

And so, and so, and so.

And so He dug out the mouth of the Spring.
And so the Spring Waters bubbled forth.
And so the Water filled the hole that he had dug.
And so the desert around it bloomed into life.

And so, and so, and so.

Bushes and cactuses and trees and vines sprouted forth and grew.
And as the water reached the bodies of clay,
They too bloomed to life.

To our Mother and Father he said - "Here are your children."
He blew, and into the wind he breathed the breath of wisdom.
There we were, opening our eyes, taking our first breaths, thinking our first thoughts!
Upon the wind we heard a song.
In this song we heard our first words.
The words were "Ynys Eilir."
The Spring was singing to us.
This song was full of love.
The love of our Mother.
The love of our Father.
The love of the Land itself for us.
We looked around ourselves in wonder.
This was the day the first flower of Spring bloomed.

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O, Where is the lonely hill?
O, Where is the warrior?

Where is the splintered shield?
Where is the saber?

Where has the rider gone?
Where are his kindred?

Alas for their duty!
Alas for their courage!

Never shall they drink again!
Never shall they revel!

Heavy is the sword in hand.
Heavier is the shield.

Heavy is the hurt in heart.
Heavier is the sorrow.

Here is the splintered shield.
Here is the saber.

Here is the lonely hill.
Here is the warrior.