Confessions of a Witch: Elizaveta "Red" Umbrae's Journal

[Kayle Walker]

People are born to dream.

As children, of tales fanciful and grand.

The innocence then fades, and the idealism mellows, replaced with the people and things they have come to cherish in their lives.

They may stumble, they may fall. But despite the losses, onwards do they march on, as they are spurred by what came before.

What then, of those who never gained anything?

This was a question I ask myself, since first I’ve seen the sun. To those who the shadows cast out, the fortunate few, only to see all the purposeful lives around them - what of them? Of us?

To start where others have already bloomed, to walk where others have already ran - it is a crippling prospect. The world is not so kind as to give everyone justice, the chance to catch up. And when the light proves too bright, some would even remember the dark as a comfort, despite its nature, and return, never to come back.

I find myself ever on the outside, looking in - I still do. I see the light’s faults, their dishonesty, and took pride in the clarity of my perspective. But whether that was simple truth, or in part the me who simply didn’t feel like I belonged, I could not move myself to admit. For to do so, is admitting the mask that I am - a wraith of dead wishes too stubborn to die.

I write this having been reassured of friends, of people who cherish me. But the questions still come - and they probably always will. Am I truly myself, or merely the mask of ghosts? And if the facade should fall, what lies behind it? I want to know.

[Kayle Walker]

Red shaded her eyes with one hand as she stood on a tall, rocky precipice. Harsh winds whipped at her face, and the sun did little to warm her against the alpine chill.

Below was a winding trail, and beyond lay the lands of Amn, about half a day’s hike down the mountain. What she was doing would’ve seemed unthinkable for the wizardess a fewmonths back - standing there for a candlemark, adjusting her pack’s straps as she stared at the horizon - but as it happened, she had been wasting time quite often as of late.

The route north to Waterdeep, the ship for the Moonshae Isles… and now this; it was the third such crossroads she’s been on in as many days. And as always, she played her little game - with eyes closed, she would imagine all the sights and sounds that awaited her, as if rousing in herself the flame to keep going. The sort she was to hate to lose, it was a game rigged to her whims.

And yet, with ways out came instead reasons to stay.

Three irritating, yet inseparable faces; the insufferable elf; the sickening couple; the warmth of a gauntleted hand; images and sensations that barely constituted a flash in the mind, and yet they kept her from taking that next step, time and again. And to her vexation, this time was no exception.

She opened her eyes once more, and the lands of Amn came into view once more, just beckoning to the wanderlust in her.

Once, the easiest of choices… but no more.

Red felt the pull of two worlds as she turned on her heels, felt a cacophony of missed adventures as she lifted her foot…

And then silence. The voices, the weight, everything that seemed to tear at her stopped as she took the first step. Once more, she was left alone with the chill wind, and the weight of the pack on her shoulders. Red took a deep, shaky breath.

Doubts will probably come again, maybe sooner rather than later.

For now, she just wanted to return home.

[Kayle Walker]

Warmth.

At first, almost like a sting, but the sensation spread, melting around her as more of her body slid into the basin. The vessel itself was no luxury - not long enough to stretch her legs, so she sat as a child would, knees up, and her back to the wooden planks that made up its rim.

Soon enough, her skin adapted to the heat, and eyes closed, she sighed as the soothing embrace of warm water seeped into her bones.

She opened her eyes just as the last vestiges of yellow and teal that was her breath faded into the ether - a reminder of the cataclysm that still ravaged the lands. Even in the silence of the bath, it was impossible to escape her current reality.

And yet even then, she felt calm. Even as she gazed upon her spell-ravaged arm and her emaciated limbs, she was at ease.

As she was, the notion of travel may still well be weeks away, and adventuring even longer. Her magic - her mark of pride - was lost to her until the calamities subside… if indeed it even could. In one moment of panic, one second of indiscretion, so much was taken.

Yet she still lived. Carried out of Amn, through hundreds of miles of the Sword Coast, all the way to Candlekeep; a shell of a person she was, and yet someone took her as their burden, even as the world crumbled around them.

Friends.

The word left her lips as if it spoke it for the first time. The word lingered in the air, lingered in her mind, and filled the silence around her. Such an alien word, this. And yet, she found them. People she can trust. People she can open her heart to.

And perhaps, even as her gifts were taken from her, and the world around them seemed teetering on the edge, just this one thing was enough.

Eyes closed once more, Red leaned her head on the rim of the wooden basin, her thoughts carrying her well past the confines of the infirmary.

[Kayle Walker]

It was the dead of night. Once more, the wizardess looks to the open road, a cloak wrapped around her shoulders, the weight of her belongings on her back, and something more - memories, faces… regrets.

She turns, and looks at the dimming lights of the Outer City - no doubt the taverns’ dying lights as dawn neared. It was her home for half a year, but with a lifetime’s amount of memories transpired over the course of it. She, who crawled from the mud, never thought she would ever try to grasp up to reach the sun, but she did. She tried, with stumbling steps and a wavering, but eager heart.

And yet… there she stood, looking at the lights she wanted to call home, and felt them strangers, like they did the first she looked upon them.

Try she did, change she sought, but at the end, rejection awaited. Words, clear as bells, stinging as knives, surfaced from the depths of her heart.

Temptress.

Sower of doubt.

Selfish.

Those words were what her effort amounted to. Her brows knit, and her hand clenched above her heart, feeling a tug of bitter black surround it. A weakness she swore never to feel - that akin to being a toy, to be used at one's leisure, then cast aside.

And still, try as she might to ignore it, try as she might to push on, the words rang true. If it is light itself that deemed her so, then maybe it is so. What is there to illuminate in shadow? 'Tis nothing but the dregs of shade hiding from the light - no substance, no weight.

To yearn for the other side is folly, it seemed, and painfully so. Perhaps this was the lesson that needed to be learned.

And so, the shade sought comfort, back, back into the embrace of night.