Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

[ENTRY FORTY-EIGHT]

He’s sorry! Ha! Sorry for the way things unraveled when he and Rocky went at it. Does he really believe that I would trust him, much less that I ever really did? He’s so much like the filth that burned up in Waterdeep that it makes my skin crawl. Let him think he has a chance to ‘smooth things over’ for now. I have what I need for the immediate moment. All business… Sure thing, dove. Another dance with a tool. Tricky because I can take nothing he says at face value… If I play my cards right, though… He can serve two functions from a safe distance. Note that I said safe… Comfort is out of the question so long as the need to converse is required.

Despite having to put up with his leering and listening to his voice… and watch him think he has all the answers and me all figured… Well okay so the last part amuses me. Despite that, I think this dance went well. Unfortunately, the Masquerade Ball is going to require more than one dance. I could feel his eyes on me as I left the Inn… could -hear- the unasked questions that his curiosity had hoped would be answered.

After taking the time from the meeting to make a showing, I was pleased to scour myself clean at the inn. That place is straight out of a fairy tale. Pretty cages indeed, Seraphim. Pretty cages for a pretty bird. Once clean, I made a trip to Beregost. By the time I purchased use of a horse, and rode back to Baldur’s Gate, it was late.

I scurried across the bridge, mindful of the tendrils of fog that snaked up from the river. The moon lit the cobblestones, and the rain had left plenty of puddles for the stars to dance in. The weather had been rainy, but not overly so. It had been cool in the moonlit hours, and pleasant by day. I smiled as the mist danced around my feet. I could almost hear you sing. In the farmers’ fields, the mists seemed to dance, just on the surface… The Lady asked for a dance, and the earth wantonly obliged. It was beautiful to watch.

I offered my prayers, and She offered me her cloak for a time, and it stilled me to my core. Wrapped me in a silvery embrace that clung to the heart and soul briefly. A gentle reminder of the illusions she graciously lets me drape around me…

Something unspoken, though not unheard… in that moment, a warning perhaps or a reminder? I wasn’t sure. The night spoke in whispers now. All around me the shadows too, cloaked in fog. My eyes picked out shapes that weren’t truly there. Tread carefully -Scarlett-. Had it been my thought or Hers? The fog moved to the strains of a melody that only my heart could hear. It was haunting… Terrifying… Humbling. I stood there, hypnotized by the figures of demons and monsters, the sea of faces and alluded memories that floated on the damp night air.

I waited for the admonishment I was sure my truths had earned me. For reasons all Her own, she let me go my way. Was it an illusion of forgiving acceptance? Did the wayward child go forth with Her blessings, or had she gone forth with the promise of penance yet to be exacted? I hadn’t realized that I held my breath until the mist had receded. Carried off by a breeze… or a whisper… leaving me shaken and chilled. It had only been a span of seconds, though it seemed ages. Overhead, more clouds had begun to gather… it would rain soon. I tucked the damp curls back from my face, asking forgiveness for my transgressions, and hurried toward the guards near the gate.

I asked the guards where I could find Platinum. Selune had reached the height of her glorious arch through the sky, and was already partially hidden by the clouds overhead by the time I happened across the nobleman in the little gazebo near the Tyrran temple. The Mistshadow had retreated altogether by the time I drew the sheets of parchment from my pack and offered them to Platinum. I winced faintly, in my heart, I knew this was yet another truth, poorly hidden… and it upset Her. I shuddered… though it seemed to go unnoticed by the paladin in front of me.

He was pleased with the poem. My penance offered, and accepted, we talked for a bit. I’ve a fair bit of recompense to offer still before I am truly forgiven for becoming what I was… and not remaining who I have become… Jake at least acknowledged me with a nod… I can’t help but worry over the blade that may eventually find its way to my throat for my hand in his discomfort the other day. Given his rather undefined ties with Dancer, I wonder how well he can and should be trusted, more so than before…

I wandered a while, eventually finding my way back to the small gathering place near the edges of the Cloakwood. In the faces of so many annoyances, my promise to behave was mocking me. I resisted the urge to dagger several, simply out of respect. I had a lovely distraction though, to keep the worst of my ire at bay. The book that the Flirt had given me, with her beautiful drawing, and my poem gracing the pages… It was fascinating to see her interpretation of the poem. Her art alluded to a metaphor that lurked beneath the metaphors on love and romance.

The Charmer had asked me how I felt about seeing my work published in such a way after admitting to having a small part in the gift. I will admit, it was both strange and wonderful to contemplate… Especially given the idea that The Flirt’s work would also grace the pages. Her knack for illustration was astounding, and I found the idea of seeing more drawings for my poems most appealing… Maybe even more so than the promise of coin.

Another pleasant aspect of the evening was The Charmer himself. It was sweet of Platinum to assure me that I was quite safe with this one… perhaps not safe enough to stay out of trouble, the implication of which had the poor Radiant Heart knight blushing… But safe enough I needn’t fear some sort of emotional battle or restriction to existence. The Charmer may well be the only creature to walk the face of Toril capable of rivaling your voice, Seraphim. You did always say that music could make or break the world. I imagine this man could manage both.

Spent a fair deal of the remainder of the night, and early morning hours enjoying traded flirtations. The only other ill moment to mar an otherwise lovely evening, was a brief moment in which Chocolate said she was leaving. It might be a while before she and Whiskey reach more stable ground… But at least when she did return, it was with him, and she did not offer the ruby back as I feared she might. I wish her and Whiskey the best, I truly do… but after seeing what a relationship that deep can do to people… Seeing the worry on Platinum’s face when he worries for Mouse… Or Illusion’s expression while his wife was missing… I am content with passing flirtations for now. You never said that happy ever after had to be tied up with a gold band…
~~

[ENTRY FORTY-NINE]

TO HELLS WITH HAPPY ENDINGS!

I almost don’t care anymore as long as that -thing- is gone!!

No… I know, Seraphim. I promised. You don’t need to bloody remind me. Though if you could toss some hint as to how I am supposed to bloody get there from here, sis… that would be spectacular. It’s like reaching for our stars, Seraphim… I can get so damned close… Then everything gets jerked from under my damned feet.

Take today for instance. It was a brilliant. Got shown the stars, so close I could have touched them. For some reason got told to find a purple dress… not that I will have time to figure that out now… or ever. I even got offered a bed made of gold…

Spring on the Coast means rainy days and nights sometimes, but when it isn’t raining… it is beautiful during the day… and at night… The Lady Dances. The air smells constantly of damp earth and flowers. More often than not, there is music. Everything sings, Seraphim! I hear your voice amid the breeze and the birds, contrast to the chorus of insects at night… Sometimes I’d give our music voice or even to your fiddle. Never fails, people end up dancing. Music makes me smile more now than it ever did.

I love the music, but that will always be yours, Seraphim. Know when you drift between the moonbeams that it is for you I sing… for you I play… even if it is the others who dance. I miss you sis. So much. I hide that terrified little thing I was well enough. May not have your shadow to hide in anymore… But I have found careful words work well enough.

I’ve ended up with a rather mixed reputation. Who Scarlett has become depends on who you ask. You’d be pleased. Scarlett is only synonymous with harlot to one or two broken hearts. Not the way we had planned for your name to clear, but it’ll do. The one common thread to Scarlett… the one thing still tying her to Maeve is the poetry.

Sometimes I am afraid to lose her altogether in the many masks and faces… And then I find her again in the rhymes. Fragile little Maeve, with a pocket full of stars, a handful of hope, and a slow burning flame that will some day turn her into something beautiful. Not just a pretty face… but something wonderful. Something no bastard can ever touch again. Someday she might even hang all those stars of hers, someday she won’t need the masks or the secrets…

As for the poetry, I bought Flirt some more paints, figure if she is going to paint pictures for the poems, and Charmer is going to see them set to something more official, it was the least I could do. They are quite a pair, those two. Yet more on a long list of folks I am going to have to turn away. Chased off Chirp and Deva Queen last night… Pretty sure Princess is mad at me for not letting her escape the other night.

Yeah, that was an interesting night, sis. I get so sick of people expecting me to let them save me… and then not letting me help when they really seem to need it. Not used to having friends, but I am quickly learning why harlots, murderers, thieves, and women plagued by demon Toad Princes don’t keep friends. I am sure, for all the amusement that come from the day, Rock and his boot infatuation won’t stick around long either. Nothing ruins a good challenge or a metaphorical dance quicker than a very literal demon.

Doesn’t help that I panicked. You know, sis… used to just care about you. We took care of each other and the rest of the rot didn’t matter. Then Anders killed you and all that mattered was keeping me in one piece long enough to keep that damned promise I made you. That thing spoke up, and I panicked. Not sure what I expected… guess I just figured the bastard would get bored and go away. I mean, thought that was what had happened. Hid away for so long, did some research, then stepped out into the bloody silence… and enjoyed it.

Doesn’t make much sense, sis. I can’t find very much on it, or what it wants. It’s bloody frustrating. All I know is my notes are still in Doron Amar… and I ended up stuck in Candlekeep again. Temples aren’t safe anymore either… I was caught so off guard. I had grown used to the silence. Complacent. Content in my own little games and having a good time. Now I wonder if these people I might consider friends are in trouble because I thought I could find my own happy ever after? It already won’t leave Chocolate alone. Made hints at bothering everyone else…

Deva Queen had offered to let me go “Terrorize a Boar and a Bear…” Silly me, though she meant kill them or something. You know? Hunting. This fellow she says is such a good sort, just sort of turned -into- a huge wolf… and has a pet bear. Wish that was the most traumatizing part of the day. Once you get used to it though, a man trotting around like a bear isn’t so bad. At least I wasn’t on the menu. Least… not present company.

We found ourselves in the orc caves, in a grand mood. Deva Queen and her court musician… and we would hire a decorator… kick out the orcs, and rule the world! I had been playing music for them as they fought. I was reminded of the stories you used to tell of these fantastic sorts who would march armies to battle with a voice to rival the winds and a song to send the enemy fleeing with tears in their eyes. Sure, I might never be that good… but I was pretty pleased with my continual struggle to crawl my way up into something better…

"Caves. Dank, orc-infested, smelly caves. You are moving up in the world, it seems."

That was enough to ruin the party. Broke the bowstrings I stopped playing so abruptly. Only way to end my laughter and music faster would be to slit my throat… I urged the others to go. I wasn’t looking forward to being molested in some dank hole. And least of all with an audience. I screamed for them to go…

“Oh, Yes. Hello.”

It laughed… and it wasn’t until I heard the sounds of garbled screams and ripping flesh in the background of the thing… That I realized… I wasn’t running for my sake. But theirs. You. And every person after… I was no wondrous performer… but a Herald of Death. That is what scared me. Everything I touch… burns, withers… dies… Everything… and Everyone.

“Out! We need to Go! NOW!”

The Fates that ever conspire against this bitter poet, chose that moment to let the orcs know we had intended to crash their party. Top it all off… my panic sent everyone in a blind hurry. Not that I could have calmed down. I could barely hear the din of fighting over the chorus of screaming between my ears. It drown out the beloved music… and when the music fled… it took reason with it.

“Running Already?”

By the Nines, yes I was. Pride is grand and all. But stupidity is clinging to pride and trying to stand ground when it is crumbling underneath you. Whatever this thing was, why ever it was around… I wasn’t a match for it. And I wasn’t going to watch it drive everyone else insane.

The Lathandarite with us fell as we left the caves. I was dragging Deva Queen. Screaming at the others to run… I tried to call on the music, tried to find the rhymes… Tried to help them, but that thing was making it difficult to do much more than run blindly and yell… and for all the noise… I couldn’t hear a thing over mother’s screams… Even if I hated her… every scream chilled me… It could just as easily be me… and maybe… maybe some part of me was starting to believe the wench didn’t deserve it. I wasn’t even paying attention to where we were running. I was just trying to get away from the screaming…

It wasn’t until we ended up stumbling into Baldur’s Gate that I realized two things… One… My best bet would have been the OTHER direction… Two… I was exhausted. Somehow most of the others kept up. By the time the Lathandarite was back on his feet, most of them had caught up. All of them were confused. I listened… I prayed it remained quiet in the temple…

The screams faded some. I heard the turning and tearing of pages. Its voice bubbled up from some dark corner of existence, sounding as though it was drowning on blood almost… blood of what, I’d rather not contemplate.

"Books, books, books. What would one such as you want from -MONKS-?”

Yeah, I knew what it meant. What would a harlot like me want with a bunch of celibate bookworms and crazy wizards. Temples weren’t safe anymore… The backdrop of screams was maddening. It was hard to focus.

“Shut up!”

The others looked at me funny as I screamed at it.

"Dusty old buggers, aren't they? How much fun would they be, really?"

I’d take it… I know the library was starting to get on my nerves… but it beat this. I swear… Mother called for me. I could hear the pleading in those garbled screams. Always wanted dear little Maeve to do the work for her… Turn a Toss so mommy can have more lotus. Get me away from this demon. Maeve was always such compliant little harlot too. Until she decided she was done being the grime on some rotter’s boots. That’s when things got really bad. I could hear the accusation too. Stupid little Maeve couldn’t just do what she was told and be happy being mommy’s little harlot.

A page being ripped, right in my ear and the screech of long nails on a chalkboard were enough to tear me from some unspoken argument with my tormented mother. The lingering nausea and the thought that she didn’t deserve what she had now…

"Booooorinng…."

Boring… and I missed it… a lot. I couldn’t think. Could barely hear the others talking.

“I left the stupid library! What do you want?! SHUT UP!”

I screamed at the top of my lungs, trying to be heard over the screams the others were oblivious to…

“Temples are supposed to help…”

"I'm already in, dearie… temples won't do a thing anymore."

Its tone was sickeningly sweet. Makes you want to gouge out your ears, I mean it sis. If my hand wasn’t shaking so bad I couldn’t have held onto the blade… I might have tried…

"I do declare, it is a bit roomy in here though."

Sounded like there was a whole HOUSE of furniture in my skull… and felt like it was bloody well rearranging it all, or trying to break all of it. On the plus side… I didn’t hear the screaming for a few minutes… though I was pretty sure my head was going to shatter. I tried every wand and spell I could think of as Deva Queen pushed me out the door.

"Stop that. It won't do any good, now."

Again, it spoke with such sickeningly sweet sincerity. The same way you tell an angry brawler to stop punching the walls. Chiding. Condescending. Absolutely amused at my meager efforts to abate the noise I couldn’t escape. I was draped in enough magic to make a wizard jealous… and it still kept talking.

"Though it does make a nice effect… Do you dance in it? Sans clothing?"

“Shut -up-!”

“Someone should restrain her, this isn't good.”

I heard the Lathandarite over all the noise. Great. Lets just keep adding to the list of people that think I am insane… Maybe I am, sis… hard to tell in moments like this.

"That would be up to par, wouldn't it?"

It chuckled disgustingly again… I didn’t need to -know- what it was referring to … to KNOW… what it was referring to. I was certain that Anders had told it all about his most favorite games… and that was nearly as disgusting to contemplate as every other aspect was. Someone mentioned finding Rith or Siomir to help…

"Oh, yes. Rith'alaria… delectable. I may decide on a collection."

I was distantly aware of the Lathandarite placing his hand on my shoulder and asking what was wrong as the thing continued to speak. I felt like vomiting.

"Puuuleeeaase bring her too, hmm?"

“Bastard! You won't fecking touch her!”

Just as distantly aware… His hand lifted and the others looked at me in varying states of surprise. The thing’s voice snaked in my ear… so close. Insidious.

"Yer mum's gettin' borin', missy. I needs a new toy…"

My eyes shot to the only other woman here. Something I am still not used to… Caring about what happens to the others.

“Deva Queen! Go!!”

“Oh… wait… Who’s that?”

“-No One-!”

“Go where?”

“Anywhere, away from here! Just Go!!”

She looked at me confused.

“My my, don’t send her away…”

It pouted… and then chuckled as I screamed at her to go.

“That would be hasty.”

“JUST GET HER OUT OF HERE!”

I was hysterical… but it was convincing enough. They got her away from me… and I hoped it was enough. Another fellow that I hadn’t really met before… and didn’t take time for introductions… was among the half dozen or so trying to help.

“Scarlett… Calm down.”

“I -am- calm!”

Right… also an angel and the Queen of the City of Splendid Rot!

"Calm? Aww. I'm not scaring you, am I? I just want to play… "

I lurched from the gentle caress on my cheek, but not quick enough to spare me the pinch that followed. And though I might have run to the hells and back… Couldn’t get away from the tongue that ran down my jawbone in an all too intimate gesture that made me want to pry my own face off. Instead I ran.

“So who are these dolts?”

It asked after my new found gaggle of well-intended-well-wishers.

“No one. Just No one… idiots…”

"The big one is kind of cute, if you like bald men. Then again, you never cared, did you? Bald, hairy, whatever."

I was trying to ignore it. I had stopped to try to catch my breath and get my bearings. The noise was unbearable. The sparrow should have been content with her gilded cage… now she was losing tail feathers to the cat… The Lathandarite was dragging me along as I screamed over the noise in my head. He smiled cheerily at the guards as he dragged me out of the city. The guards simply nodded as the clergyman was no doubt dragging the psychotic woman to get some help… or lock her in a room and throw away the key. I had stopped talking to it. Inexorably drawn to the screams in the background…

"Perhaps you need a caress…"

I had forgotten… How painful that fire was. Suffocating… So complete and nearly unbearable. The Lathandarite stopped dragging me and jumped back in surprise. They screamed for water… I struggled to move a few steps… trying to form the words to keep us all moving, knowing Water wouldn’t save me… Wondering if much of anything would. I wondered if the phoenix knew as she burned that she would rise again, something new and beautiful… or if she simply begged for the end…

“That is just not personal enough anymore…”

The insinuation that things were about to get more personal was more than enough to send me running, break-neck speed… It laughed after me.

“Besides… I’d prefer to see you in the real thing.”

The next bout of flames was harder to keep running through… and in fact brought me to a shuddering, crumpled stop. I looked at the others. Thought for a moment I saw Platinum… but it wasn’t him. The thing threatened to turn him to stone like he did Dreamer, and I screamed until he left. I didn’t care anymore… this thing was hurting enough people… if I had to make the world hate me… so be it.

I could tell from the looks on their faces that the smell of burnt flesh wasn’t just my illusion… I couldn’t form the words to tell them… to get me to Candlekeep… or find enough spells to drape me in and keep me safe… I vaguely remember the stars… I’m sure at some point I asked you to let me out of my promise… I’m sorry, Seraphim… How can the phoenix become something new and bright… when all she wants to do is escape the fire? I never was as strong as you were… And I don’t know how much more of this I can take…

“Mum says hello…”

I swear I heard her call for me again… As soon as the flames stopped, and I drew enough breath to halt the spots in front of my eyes… I ran. I no longer cared who followed or why… All I knew was my best chance was to get to the cage I had been so eager to leave behind. I was yelling at them to get away as it was threatening them…

"You fear for these pathetic men?"

Fear, no… but for some strange reason… I suddenly cared that people were hurting because of me. I used to pride myself on making people squirm. Breaking hearts and leaving behind me a trail of blood and fire and hate… For all the good it did me… I cared.

Its barbed, slimy tongue was enough to stop me trying to get them to leave well enough alone. I jumped away from the Lathandarite, who was trying to carry me to the keep… and ran. So much running… I felt like I was dying. Every muscle and bone ached. My legs screamed in protest of every forward movement… It had been quiet… so I paused trying to get both bearings and breath back…

"Getting tired? You know if you have sore muscles, I'll massage them for you."

“No… Not tired…”

I tried to stumble forward… I was so near Candlekeep…

"Of course, removing them to do so may be painful…"

Any forward movement was halted by the very acute sensation of a blade slowly cutting away the skin, rough hands pulling apart my leg… Sent me into hysterical screaming. I was shocked to find the leg still in tact when I went to mend the wound. So I ran. It hurt so bad, sis… but staying hurt worse to even consider. At some point, Chirp was trying to help me along… I was distantly aware of others following. Idiots… why was no one listening to me? Oh right… because I was insane and possessed.

"Hmm. All these Elven women around you. Pretty, pretty. You aren‘t the jealous type are you?"

I screamed for everyone else to stay away… afraid for them, and ran to the gates.

“Yer mum certainly isn’t.”

It said flatly.

I stumbled into the bounds of Candlekeep, getting more odd looks from more guards. Miracle of miracles they didn’t just shoot me. I collapsed in a heap. It was fainter now… but I could still hear it laughing. I was barely coherent… and that was being generous.

"Have a rest, lovely. I need to finish up with Mum first. Then we'll play more."

A threat? A promise… I didn’t care… it didn’t matter. The implication left me a terrified jumble. Gone was the confident woman that Scarlett is… in her place was a terrified girl, once again hiding in the corner from the man who intended to sell her soul, one Toss at a time. This time though… there was no brave songstress to swoop to her rescue. No mist-laden shadows that rose to hide me…

The sounds of whatever it was doing to mother… and gods knew who else… had me screaming at the gates, and wishing they would lock me in and never let me out… ever. The idea of being a librarian had won out on being a nun… Mostly because I was so damned that not even the gods would save me now…

Rock was talking to me. I wasn’t even sure where he had come from. I looked at him, then at the gates again… the screams were so loud… I was afraid I’d never hear the music again. All I heard was her screaming. Like some weak willed idiot… I burst into tears.

“Red… No one is there.”

No one… but something was. I was running out of places to hide, running out of options. I said something about a bastard Toad Prince… right when some poor fool came through the gates. I think Rock would have killed him.

“ 'at 'im Red?”

I blinked. Then began shaking my head. Gods if only it was that easy. The sounds that poured through the open gates sent me scurrying away from them. It was… gods, Seraphim… It sounded like it was… having mother over for dinner… and not as a guest. I wasn’t exactly sure how long I stood there, shaking in my damned boots before the screaming faded… whether because the show was over… or she just couldn’t scream anymore… I didn’t want to find out.

Rock tugged me off to the inn. Chirp was smarting off about love. The Lathandarite, think they said his name was Lance… was asking questions. I dug out one of many drawings of the thing that had become a companion to my nightmares of late… A weaver of agonies… My mind replaying mother‘s… and Anders’ torments vividly enough that the drawings were frighteningly detailed. I threw it at them.

“This… That… That… is the problem!”

I curled into the couch that I had been nudged into, and watched as Rock snatched up the drawing and looked at it. This of course lead to questions that I struggled to answer. I had said something about mother… and it answered… however distantly, in a tone so loving and endearing that it set me to shaking all over again.

"Yes… dear, -sweet- mum…"

I shuddered, trying desperately to breathe. Rock clunked down in his usual unceremonious manner, wrapped an arm around my shoulders… which I was quick to warn him away from.

“What ya wanna do?”

There were a million answers to that question… and the one that came to mind first was “hide“. This was followed by “run” “Fight… if I knew bloody well how” and if all else failed… Die. None of which did me much good right now. Rock asked more questions… He kept asking what it wanted, and I had few answers. Damned notes still at Doron Amar. I began to lecture myself. I was a damned fool, Seraphim.

“Everything else is in Doron Amar at my room in the inn… I knew I should have stayed… knew I should have at least taken everything with me … but -nooo- I had to get bored and try pretending that things might be okay! Brilliant bloody move, Scarlett! Now you are back to being stuck in the damned library! … Okay… Catch my breath… and just run… all the way… get my n--”

“Fark that! Ya stayin, someone else 'ill go.”

Wasn’t sure what I had done to get the protective treatment… but I wasn’t in any position to argue. Unfortunately I wasn’t in much position to offer any answers either. He got frustrated, and thank gods, kept his distance. Now if I could just get everyone else to hate me… or think me too crazy to be around… well at least Only the Phoenix would suffer the blaze… and not everything that already earned its stripes and its right to live.

Chirp is a stubborn sod… but I was glad for the company. It was nice to have someone near by when I woke up screaming. Maybe Chirp or Rock can go find Chocolate or Platinum or someone… at least I need to get to Doron Amar so I can finish going over those notes.

If I don’t figure this out soon… Bloody Hells, I don’t have a choice. You are going to hold me to that promise, aren’t you? Do or Die, as they say… I have to get them away. … I have to hate them… all of them. At least convincing them all I am insane shouldn't be too hard.
~~

[ENTRY FIFTY]

Today has been… interesting. After all this time, I finally understand, sis. I’m sorry it took more than a year after your death to understand it. To understand what you showed me every day. To understood what we did every day. We fought for something beautiful. We were not fighting for freedom… I never was fighting for revenge… or at least I never should have been. Fighting for something beautiful.

I was so angry. I still am… I will be, I can’t help it. This Phoenix is -no one’s- Songbird anymore… Seraphim… you may always be an angel, my angel… but you fought. With all your heart and soul… until you had nothing left to throw at them. Why? Because you saw a phoenix in a sparrow. I understand now. When you said no one could touch the parts that matter, when you told me to fly… When you made me promise to stand and become something beautiful… You asked me to promise to fight for something beautiful. For what I could be… not what I was. I may lose my mind to get there… But once again, I realize… They can’t destroy what matters. Phoenixes never die, even if harlots might. Even if I might.

Chocolate thinks I’ve already lost my mind… She’s kind enough to not put that into words. I suppose that in a way she is right. She sort of panicked when I went over the bits and pieces I have been able to sort from all these books. Should be some sort of rule about letting crazy wizards write books. Then again, dealing with stuff like demons… and making sense of some of this… It is a wonder they stayed sane enough to write the mess they wrote.

If it is this demon thing, there may be some trinkets these Netherese wizards that dealt with him, left behind. That worried Chocolate too. Can’t say I blame her. From what I read, the Netherese were power hungry bastards. Idiots so blinded by the want for power that it skewed their logic. Doesn’t say why they were initially dealing with Toad Prince though. Like they were trying to pretend it never happened. Happened a couple millennia ago… I am surprised I’ve even found this much information on it.

It took some pretty strong wizards, and these trinkets, to get rid of the Toad Prince. Still trying to sort out where these trinkets went… or how they might work. Sounds like they store magic… maybe they kept some after all this time? Maybe we can add to it. Also read about some thing that was supposed to strengthen and magnify it… if I am reading right. They used these to banish the bastard. Now then… the way I see it, there are enough willing to stand up to this Toad Prince… to have a chance if we find these things. Damned rambling wizards. I have more notes to make sense of before I know where to find these things.

The only thing that bothers me, is this just sends him away. Doesn’t stop him from coming back. Not sure I would wish the last few months on anyone. I want the Toad Prince dead. Like really can’t ever come back and cause more shite dead. I understand why Chocolate wants these trinkets destroyed when we are done with them, but what happens if the bastard comes back, and we had destroyed the one way to get rid of him?

I couldn’t live that happy ever after knowing it had a chance to do this to someone else. Weird that I even care, but I do, sis. It matters. Guess that means we have to go to it, beat down its door and kick its arse. Which is scary as the Nines… Got Chocolate all worked up and worried about marriage and babies and all that rot. Not that I blame her. I hope we can pull this all off. It had said to please bring her too. Wonder if it knew then what we would be trying to do. Says it wants a collection. I know enough folks… I think if we are smart about this, and I take every sod who is insane enough to care… We can beat it and just skip the whole ‘dying and adding to his collection’ part.

Whiskey and Chocolate went off to chat, and I poured over more notes and books for a while. As the afternoon would progress into evening, My resolve would strengthen. Not because I am that strong, but because a sparrow is a lot more brave when facing a cat when surrounded by hawks and eagles. This sparrow turned phoenix might make it after all.

This resolve comes after a long talk with Platinum. He was upset. He was also giving me that ‘you pissed daddy off’ look. Can definitely tell that man has daughters. Poor guy.

We talked about all sorts of things. From daughters to demons to death. He explained that dead is dead. That I don’t have to drag it out, or enjoy it. When I do it becomes something twisted, and rotters like Anders and Cale, even mother and the Toad Prince win. So he may have been playing on my pride a bit. I never lose, not when it counts. This won’t be any different.

We talked about a lot of things. About the music, about war, about fighting for what we believe in. Come to find out, I’ve been doing that all along. Fighting for something beautiful. I let him listen… I heard your song… and I let him listen. It helped him a lot… Me too, sis. Reminded me of the few things that had always been beautiful. The things they tried to ruin, and couldn’t. We talked about fighting… dying… choosing.

He said many that choose to fight go into it certain they will die… and thus, do. Phoenixes don’t die, Seraphim. That isn’t a choice for me. My choice is to keep a promise I made. A promise to become something beautiful. Something beautiful like the music. Something beautiful like a song from the heart. Something beautiful like you were… Like I can be someday…

I helped him hear. I wonder if he could hear your violin on the night as I did? I know he heard the music the night had added to it… And I know he heard the music when I gave the melody lyric. It really is true. Music is a balm for anger. Not that anyone can stay pissed at the hells or what have you when we brought the music to life… together. Gods, Seraphim. I could hear you. See you, sis. The Lady danced, and so did you between the moonbeams, and I saw you smiling. It was heartbreaking to sing with you again… Sing, and know that no one could hear the wonder that was your music. Thank you, for letting me try… for teaching me to treasure it.

"It makes sense now."

He finally broke the silence that came in the wake of the song. It was as though the night stood in silent awe of you for a time, sis. Slowly the night had begun to sing again… and my heart hummed along. Some how my pep talk had turned into his, then back into mine again. The conversations throughout the night had shifted back and forth and back again.

“What does?”

"The irony to me is that you seem to shy away from singing. I have never heard you until now."

“I find… that I enjoy being able to choose my audience.”

"Fair enough."

“To not be -anyone's- Songbird… is to be an angel's Phoenix.”

"Those used by others tend to have the hardest time giving back. It is understandable."

“Even then? I couldn't hate the music…”

I could see the question in his eyes.

“It wasn't the music that hurt. Even a lament can be beautiful. For the right cause… so can the war drums…”

He watched the landscape, anger had been replaced by stubborn resolve. I respected him. Like so many others lately, he was willing to fight for a Phoenix. The phoenix had said she was willing to return the favor… Not just because no one gets something for nothing, but because, for once… I had the chance to do the right thing, and -wanted- to.

"If -I- go to war, the cause is just. . ."

“Then -Dance-, Platinum. The music will change in time.”

"Is that a dance with life, or death?"

He drew his sword from his back. The blade had a music of it’s own. It sang its own song. It asked for the blood of the unjust in its cadence. It begged that wrong be made right in its simple music.

“Both… Either way… it is a dance.”

The blade sang as I ran my finger along the blade. Foreshadowing what was to come, it drew a single bead of blood. It set its song on my heart, and I gave it lyric:



“You asked if I intended to fight for it… and promised me your sword… If you need it… I won't hesitate to return the favor. Demon or not, whatever… if you need me… I'll be there.”

He asked if I knew the dogma of his god. I shook my head as he regarded me. He took the time to recite it. I regarded him quietly in turn. Finally he spoke again.

"It means I am to be a shield to protect those who cannot protect themselves. It means I strike, and strike hard, against those with naught but hatred in their hearts. And I must strike soon."

The world trembled at the weight in those words. I spoke of choosing battles… choosing allies.

“Well… Seems wrong of me to choose to turn my back on everyone now. And while we are choosing? Choosing to fight and win rather than fight and die is rather obvious. Because… if you don't choose at all? You end up slowly dying inside from the rot.”

He turned the hilt of his blade to me, and I looked at him confused a moment.

“I won’t offer it again.”

I took it, the tone in his voice leaving no question or room for argument and discussion. I watched as he offered his blood to the blade, a wordless promise. Then he reached for the hilt again.

“Now you.”

Second time in my life I have written a promise in blood. I didn’t hesitate the first time either. It didn’t hurt any less the second time. Neither of us spoke as the blade’s nature burned away the blood. I the phoenix of blood and fire… There was something else in that. If I kept the promise to him… no matter what happened, I would be keeping my promise to you.

"To fight or die is still a choice. It seems obvious, but some choose poorly. Many people walk into a fight expecting to die. So they do."

“Phoenixes don't die… Besides I never lose… no sense in starting now.”

"I lose all the time. I just do not give up."

“I -can't- afford to lose. And I have come this far… just because I want out of the fire now… doesn't mean I don't want to stick it out to the 'Something beautiful' part more.”

"If you respect yourself for the attempt, you will still be beautiful in the end."

The weight of that statement settled around me like a cloak. Again I thought of his want for me to forgive myself. To respect my own choices. To choose and live without regret. He looked to his sword.

"This blade is named ‘Torm's Truth‘, and was forged under the watchful eye of my deity, it is rumored. The Truth will hold you to your vow to fight, and keep fighting. You wish to help; I will hold you to that. So will my god."

I nodded… and murmured. No backing out now.

“Lady, guard me in my moments of truth…”

If he heard my own silent prayer… he didn’t question it. He had promised that he would respect that I could make my own choices. He wouldn’t condescend me, but he would hold me responsible for them. If I meant to be something beautiful… I needed to make the right choices.

"Just remember, as certain feelings of friendship and allies my be new to you… No matter how loyal you are, and how much you may wish to protect someone from something, in the end, their choices are theirs, as yours are yours."

“That rules out the plan to make the world hate me then… to keep them away… to keep them safe from this… Thing.”

"Those who know you would keep trying anyway. Those who don't, miss out on knowing you in exchange for the chance, an uncertainty, of protection."

In other words… if I wanted to be allowed to choose for myself… I had to allow others the same. If they chose to brave Toad Prince or what have you, for my sake, then it was their choice. How could my choices be respected if I could not respect theirs?

He had said my value was incalculable. I understood finally, what you had always been telling me. They tried to put a price, in blood or gold, on us… but we were priceless. I -was- something beautiful… But I could be better. I would be. For you. For them. For me.
~~

[ENTRY FIFTY-ONE]

Books. I am starting to hate books. Like Wizards. I think I hate wizards too. Bloody insane wizards. Can’t write anything in order. It’s frustrating, Seraphim. Been distracting myself with the music. With your violin. No sense in hiding anymore, sis. Mother’s gone. Anders seems to be. I left Cale dead, and I really think that if he managed to crawl back, I’d have woke up with him hovering over my damned bed with a dagger and a hot poker. Just like old times. Bastard. No, they’re gone. And anything out of Waterdeep is the least of my worries.

Not alone anymore anyway. I’ve even learned a trick or two to keep myself alive. I’m starting to think if I am careful, I might be alright. If this whole book thing that Charmer goes on about comes to fruition, I’ll even have a few coins of my own to rub together. Good thing too, since I’ve about ran through what I took from Anders’ worthless arse.

Yes, things are looking just peachy. If you overlook the looming threat of Toad Prince… whatever it may actually be. And… if you consider I won’t get everyone who has actually decided to give a damn killed. Learned something else too. Tools are useful… but friends are more so. You were right, sis. There are decent folks beyond the rot in Waterdeep. I think I even could say I am pretty happy with where things are at. It’s as if I am standing on a cloud with all the stars in the sky ahead of me. I just need to pick a direction… and fly.

As soon as the sparrow trades these broken wings for the Phoenix’s? I can do just that. Which leads me back to Toad Prince and the damned wizards and their damned books. How can someone so smart, like any good wizard seems to need to be, be so bloody disorganized? Because I really think it contradictory. Then again, I am far too practical to be a wizard. Eccentric bastards.

After days of reading… I spent the day with Chocolate in the park, and we went over my notes… Even come across some new stuff. Mind you, it only makes me hate wizards more. Maybe because leaving someone behind is what you do when you are a selfish rotter who doesn’t give a damn about who they hurt. Like I used to be… I don’t want to be like that anymore, sis. I like being human. I like being above the rot that I started out in. I just wish you were here to share it.

Right… sorry, you know I get rambly. Poet’s attention span. Sorry, sis. So these wizards… one of them named Xinreal, kept popping up in my books. Seems he was one of the ones who helped banish Toad Prince the first time around. Also seems that he got left behind. Best as I can puzzle out, when they banished Toad Prince, this guy got hit by some sort of backlash to the spell… And it sort of trapped him in some type of magical field. They couldn’t get him out right away, and left these trinkets there, hoping these things they used to banish Toad Prince could be used to free Xinreal.

Unfortunately, Xinreal was forgotten by his supposed friends. These things we need to banish Toad Prince are still wherever he is… waiting for someone to let him out. Now, providing the magic preserved the poor bastard, he is going to be surprised as the anything in the Nines to learn they left him to rot for two bloody millennia. Now that is the short end of the proverbial stick up the arse…

Unfortunately, as I said, I have the attention span of a poet. Not to mention all that reading through all that crazy mess gets difficult after a while. Chocolate and I both got to talking about how this one wizard might not be a total crazy rotter. For once it was me trying to talk her into being nice, and not the other way around. I just don’t know that leaving this guy there is the right thing to do. I mean, he at least deserves the chance to die… which from what I read, he can’t even do that. No one deserves to be caged. Not Me… Not Chocolate… No one else… not even some wizard from a power hungry culture of arcanist mad men. Besides… Maybe he can help.

So we took a break, and ate some candy, sharing another customary box of chocolate, and musing about everything from butterflies to romance to marriage… She’s bound and determined that I am going to find some perfect fellow to capture my heart and waltz me into my own happy ever after… Right. If this were a bloody fairy tale. I even looked for a frog prince in the park… no such luck. If it is a fairy tale… the evil queen is winning… and I am a bit short on fairy god-mothers.

Then, because chocolate fixes everything, we started reading again. She tensed, so I set to re-reading, thinking she saw something upsetting. Chocolate has changed a lot since I first met her. She’s calmer. She gets less angry, especially with me. Then she started talking… not to me or about the book, but to Toad Prince… who apparently missed her enough to start a conversation. Unfortunately for him, she’s learned a thing or two lately too. She’s close to her goddess… in a different way than you were, sis… but it seems to give her an edge.

I started humming nervously, and packing things up. We were a long way from safety. Long way from that pretty gilded cage… and the cat was on the prowl. She continued to yell at it. Not that I could make much of it out over the rummaging around between my ears. Sounded like a bunch of hyper-active gnomes, on sugar… playing musical chairs… without music. And left me with a sharp, stabbing sort of headache. Flopping it’s heavy arse into an imaginary chair…

“Books, Eh?”

“Done reading… Time to go, Chocolate!”

I stood, the last of things back in my pack. She whirled around, slapping something away from her ear. I winced, knowing all to well the three likeliest things that had happened. Needed to get her someplace safe. Fast.

"I will cleanse the taint out of you.. you will burn with purity. Be on your knee's and begging forgiveness at all that you have done… Then you will be released from the evil you can't help but commit, and thank me while I relieve you of your evil."

As much as I enjoyed the thought of the Toad Prince saying thank you as she shredded him into a million non-existent pieces… I was worried. Things never failed to get worse.

“Chocolate. Talk later… Time to go. Don’t taunt it… at least not here.”

"After the taint is cleansed from you… There will be nothing left to wrestle with!"

She rooted in. She’d drawn some line… and wasn’t moving. I half expected to be set on fire. I’d never seen her look so determined before. A flash of victory crossed her face, briefly.

"What's wrong, Toad? Don't like me so much anymore?"

"Your friend is quite the -wench-, don't you know?"

His voice shot through my thoughts. I tried to hide a smile. The bastard sounded less confident than normal… he sounded rattled. Silently, I cheered her on.

"Not so shattered now am I?"

No she wasn’t, and he didn’t like it. She had become as strong as she was beautiful, and he was pissed that he couldn’t tug her strings anymore. She continued to taunt him… as worried I was that someone would be set on fire, and that someone would likely be me… I couldn’t help but smile.

"Oh I hurt your feelings... To strong to be your trophy?"

I felt the imaginary chair get kicked hard across the expanse of my imagination… It hurt. At least it wasn’t fire. The rotter was mad. Toad Prince had lost a foot hold and he was pissed. My yelp at the sudden mass of pain in my head.

"Are you alright?"

“Hells! Like he's rearranging my damned head. You pissed him right off.”

“Be strong, dear.”

I grinned at her faintly, despite the pain raging through my head. My voice was weak and shaky, much to the dismay of my own stubborn pride. I couldn’t see straight.

“I'm a big girl... Lace my own boots and everything... Remember?”

"-Wenches-… Come! I will have -you-.”

He grumbled in my ear angrily.

“If not her, then she will simply -DIE-!!"

Chocolate rattled off a pair of spells, and both his voice and the headache began to fade. My thoughts began to re-organize as the pain receded. I wanted to laugh. She pissed it off. He backed down. -We- had a foot hold. And -he- wasn’t so unstoppable as I thought.

She joked about being insulted that Toad Prince no longer thought she was worth the trouble of enslaving. She was worried that now he would give me even more trouble… Which he may well do. Meant we would have to hurry and find this other wizard… see about these devices, see if he can help… The fact that we could retake ground was a massive amount of good news. Just meant we had to keep going. I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to stand alone against something like this… But for the first time since you were taken away from me, sis… I have real friends, and don’t have to stand alone.

No backing down now. The flames are rising… The stars are waiting. So is that Happy Ever After.
~~

Subject: Rumours of Baldur's Gate

LeslieMS wrote:Scarlett makes her way to various points, and offers those entitled to such things updated books of poetry. The select few to receive the hand written treasures do not find the practice out of the ordinary as she has done so often. She is later seen walking south, singing a quiet song. As the melody fades on the spring breezes... so too does the Crimson Phoenix as she slips between the shadows, wrapping herself in a cloak of magics. Later, those entitled would find one short poem, and a single white feather tucked in the back of the bindings.

~A FAREWELL FOR NOW~
This Phoenix still has much to learn
The fires still have much to burn
Know that you hold a place in my heart so high
Smile, for you taught this wounded dove to fly
Someday maybe our paths may cross
Do not weep, for this isn't a loss
Gently dream and fondly smile
Memories dear all the while
~The Crimson Phoenix~

[ENTRY FIFTY-TWO]

They didn’t have a clue, most of them. I waited to leave Chocolate and Whiskey’s until after they had gone to sleep. Platinum wasn’t around. I left his at his desk. Better that way, because they would only try to stop me from going. That or they would try to help. Platinum talks about choices, letting people make their own. I think I have enough of this figured out I can get rid of this demon. There is some wizard I don’t even know that will likely help. If something happens to him, it won’t hurt my feelings. Not like it would if something happened to the others. The way I see it, I made a choice to do this on my own. I made a choice to keep them safe, not prevent them from choosing. They’ve already chosen, all of them.

So two days ago, I left. The fog was thick that night. Fitting I thought. The Lady hasn’t abandoned me after all. For that I am grateful. Once again my departure is marked by Her embrace. Mist and Shadow, Seraphim! This time… unlike last time… I actually hope to get to come back. If I can get rid of Toad Prince, with Anders and Mother gone… I can be content with the reasonable assumption that Cale had the decency, for once… to stay dead. I can be content with a lot. I can live… keep that promise.

So far it’s been quiet. I left with enough wands and scrolls and books to make Elminster jealous… Just in case. I’ve got things narrowed down a bit. I’ll be able to work out the particulars as I go. It’s going to be a long trip. I’ve made enough gold to fund it. Learned enough to keep food on my plate until I get where I am going. People are always looking for a blade, and most Taverns are open to traveling musicians.

At least Toad Prince can’t hurt the others. If his focus is on me though, I’ll just have to figure out how to muscle through it. I hope you keep an eye on me from your place between the moonbeams, Seraphim… Please ask the Her to hide me well. I know I am probably not Her favorite person. Offer an apology on my behalf. The Lady always favored you, sis, maybe that is enough to earn me Her cloak.

The caravan master wants to stop at dawn, some little village. Get rooms and rest up. For now though, the moon is high, and it is my shift. This merchant I am working for is a decent enough sort. A little paranoid about his spices… Hey, who am I to judge. Saves me walking, earns me some coin… Least until I get set on fire, I can cover ground quicker this way.
~~

[The next several entries and pages are largely devoid of poetry or drawings. In fact they seem devoid of most personal touches all together. Instead it is careful dates and descriptions of meetings, information… notes on books, maps and places. Also detailed meticulously are several mercenary type jobs for guard duty on various caravans and such, some information gathering, and some sweet talking. Detailed just as meticulously is the lucrative results of these ventures. It creates a road map of sorts for a journey that stretches several tenday.]
~~

[ENTRY FIFTY-TWO CONTINUED AND FORWARD]

[After nearly two and a half months of similar notes leading to some remote desert village, a decent chunk of coin has been made. The path taken seems to be doing little more than chasing metaphors, in some measures, quite literally. There are occasional notes on ‘Toad Prince’ and similar troubles to what she has endured already. Rather than run away though, it seems to make her even more determined to get wherever it is she is going. Oddly, the nearer she gets to her eventual destination, the quieter he gets…]
~~

An open invitation. I’ve suffered everything but damnation at this point. I don’t even care anymore. I just want to get to the end of it. If the Phoenix is to be trapped in a cage the rest of her life, sis? What does it matter? In the least, maybe I can stop this thing. Or at least… Never mind. If the Phoenix has to fly between the moonbeams, so be it.

After tendays of reading through dozens of books and what not… I’m finally close to this wizard who can help me get rid of the Toad Prince. He should be in some old ruin. I spent all the coin I’ve made on supplies to get through the ruin… and deal with the demon. Not sure if it is enough to get the job done, but it will have to do. If there is a return trip… I’ll need more coin.

Toad Prince… after being a right bastard for about a month now… has gotten quiet. Maybe he’s scared of the wizard. Maybe he knows I am coming for him next. Maybe he thinks he is about to get what he wants. Maybe he is actually worried. I doubt it though. I am pretty sure that even with the wizard, my chances are slim. Doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t intend to give up until he’s gone. I’ve learned a few tricks along the way. I will see the bastard obliterated. Even if I don’t walk away from this.

Don’t get angry, Seraphim. I know I promised I’d find that happy ever after… If this is as good as it gets, then so be it. It beats being caged and hunted the rest of my life. In the least I know now that you were right. Love exists. Love is beautiful. Love is what has had me traipsing across Faerûn alone for nearly two months. They won’t get hurt this way. And either death or victory waits. Either way, there isn’t much left for the flames to burn away. Maybe by the time I burn off the rot, there won’t be much left… but it will be enough. Enough to be free.

Big day tomorrow. I need to rest. Rumor has it that these ruins are full of all sorts of magical traps and unpleasant nasties. Can’t be worse than Cale, Anders or Toad Prince. Mist and shadow! Lady Guard me… I would like to walk away from this… somehow…
~~

BLOODY DAMNED HELLS!

It has been a surprising day. In more ways than I thought possible. For one… I am surprised I am even writing this. Surprised how lucky I am. I was working on dealing with a trap near the entrance of this ruin when I heard a voice behind me. One I didn’t expect. I turned around to see some sort of spirit. Cursing a blue streak because the trap nearly took off my arm, I readied to fight.

Couple hours later, the spirit had explained that he meant to help me, show me how to get the wizard out… If I wasn’t such a blind twit… Did I mention how lucky I was?

I clawed and scratched my way through most of this ruin. Took most of the day. I had to stop and try to rest. Not that I rested much. That spirit… won’t give me a name, and so far hadn’t been right when he tells me how to get through the place… But I swore he looked at me from time to time like he intended to have me for lunch or something… By the Nines, the bastard looked at me like most men did. But as I said he hadn’t been wrong and was getting me through this haunted, trapped, undead, golem riddled mess of a ruin.

I ate a bit, drained a bottle of wine and a waterskin. Despite the spirit’s assurances that the cobweb and dust riddled alcove was safe enough for me to rest in… I didn’t dare chance it. Not that I could sleep anyway. I had dragged various bits of rubble and boulders over to block my little corner off. I sat there in the dark, just listening.

The music was faint here. Somewhere water dripped from somewhere. An oasis over the ruins or something? The occasional skittering of a rat or mouse… the occasional movement of something much larger… and thankfully farther away. The golems were attracted to light. The undead attracted to the living. Fortunately, they were a ways off. The spirit had shown me how to draw up some arcane protections. These, fortunately worked like a charm.

Few hours later Toad Prince reminded me why I was here. Nothing cures exhaustion like being molested by a demon you can’t fight. At least it wasn’t … more involved. After screaming at Toad Prince, the spirit showed me how to work up some more protections… which seemed to keep Toad Prince quiet. Good thing too, since my noise had attracted my … hosts. The golems were thicker in that part of the ruin. Stronger too, like the magic was stronger the further in I got.

Finally, I stood in some sort of antechamber. It was dusty and untouched. The golems there responded to the spirit. I was the first person to step foot in this part of the ruin in ages… millennia even.

There were the things from my notes. Just sitting there pretty as you please. It had arcane ruins written all around. Looked like some sort of ritual chamber. There, in the near middle of the room was some sort of sphere of energy. I inched over carefully, half expecting more traps or something.

Imagine my surprise when I peered into the magical orb of energy to see a body suspended within. Imagine how much greater my surpise was as things unfolded.

“You must be Xinreal…”

I murmured to the man in the sphere. But it was the spirit that had been helping me that had answered.

“Yes. Yes I am.”

I turned, and eyed the spirit… then turned my eyes on the wizard in the sphere. They were indeed the same. Xinreal’s spirit explained that he had been stuck wandering the ruins since his body was trapped. His peers left him… forgot him. He could show me how to use the artifacts to get him out, show me how to work the magic.

“So I’ll help you get out of here, but you have to promise something in turn.”

“I helped you get here alive, what more could you want. Just let me out!”

I guess all those years hadn’t instilled patience.

“If you agree to help me get rid of this demon…”

He eyed me, his eyes widened in surprise when I asked him to help me get rid of Toad Prince. He listened with an oddly satisfied expression on his face as I explained my trouble with the demon he had helped to banish. When my tale was done, I asked him for his help again. He smiled at me.

“You poor thing. I will -gladly- help you. By the time we are done here, that demon will never be able to touch you again.”

Hours later… after slow and careful actions on my part… under Xinreal’s less than patient instruction. I was nearly ready to get the forgotten wizard out of his prison. This is where the next surprise came in.

“Scarlett!”

I turned to see Chocolate standing there. I blinked.

“You promised.”

She said, her voice sounded almost sad.

“Chocolate?”

I still couldn’t believe she was here.

“How…?”

“Wasn’t hard. I left a couple days after you. Was able to cover ground quickly. I just asked around for a beautiful woman in red, who liked chocolate and red wine. You left without this. We agreed not to run unless we had to.”

She sounded hurt… looked hurt as she reached up and took off the Ruby pendant… your pendant… I stared at her. She thought I was abandoning her.

“Chocolate… no… Don’t. You keep it. Of all the people, Seraphim would have wanted you to wear it. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to keep you safe, sis. I wasn't running away. Just wanted this to stop.”

“Remember what I said? This effects me too.”

“Chocolate… I’m sorry…”

Fortunately today… she was more forgiving of my exploits than she had been in the past. We talked back and forth. I explained why I had done what I had done. She understood what I had been reluctant to admit. Maybe because she knew why I did it. She knew I did it because I cared. Yeah. Because I loved them. All of them who had shown me what friendship was. I wanted to keep them safe.

I know they would brave the Hells and the Abyss if I asked them to, but I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t want them hurt. Of all the things Chocolate didn’t understand about me. At least she understood this. She understood love. She hugged me as I put the necklace back into place. She told me that love was what made people want to help in the first place, and that I should not reject that love either, and let people help. Let her help. I nodded.

“Touching, but could we hurry this along?”

She turned on Xinreal’s spirit. Distrustful and wary as ever… It took me a bit to convince her that he had been helping, that he meant to help, and all we had to do was finish to let him out. Between her and I, and with his spirit’s help, hours later… The forgotten wizard, Xinreal was free.

Now for the next surprise. He explained that he needed my help with one more thing. That the fact I was able to free him proved what he had suspected. He was my great-great-great-however-many-times-in-hundreds-of-generations-grandfather… That only a blood relation could get him out. Chocolate confirmed this with the nature of the magic that had held him in place, and the manner in which we had set him free. He wasn’t lying. We were family.

Chocolate wandered around the room, collecting up things that she thought would need to be destroyed because they were dangerous and powerful Netherese artifacts. She still reluctantly held to the promise to wait to destroy them until after the demon was gone. Xinreal told her there was a bunch of his notes in the room just off the antechamber. Notes we could use to get rid of Toad Prince. I got my next surprise once she left the room.

“You see, the fact that you are a blood relation is important. Not only because it was the only way to get me out, but because it is the only way to get my spirit and body fused back together.”

“Huh?”

I looked up from one of the artifacts I was studying… to the now armed wizard standing between me and the table I had left my sword and shield on.

“There is one more thing I need you to do for me, my dear Songbird…”

My eyes narrowed. He smiled. Gone was the veneer of kindly wizard. He eyed me hungrily. Half crazed. I reached for the dagger hidden in the sheath on my thigh.

“I need your blood, my dear. All of it.”

He sounded like the damned Toad Prince. That was the next surprise. I was hit with a blast of magic pinning me against the wall. I barely heard Chocolate screaming that it was a trap. My ears rang as the wizard was standing over me. There was too much distance between Chocolate and I.

I was disoriented from the crack my skull took. Next thing I knew, I was staggering toward Chocolate, trying to close the distance. The wizard behind me. -Right- behind me. NEXT surprise: His dagger was on my throat. I was still reeling from the blast of magic.

Never the less, I wasn't about to let this bastard have his way. Chocolate was right. This wizard didn't need saving. Had no real way of knowing ahead of time though, damn my curiosity. Now I knew. I jabbed the dagger over my shoulder, and prayed I hit a mark enough to get him off of me.

His dagger cut painfully as he screamed in pain. I had jammed the dagger in his eye, but the fatal cut he had already begun was half completed when he staggered back. I tried to work a rhyme together to fix it so I could see to the wizard who -was- Toad Prince.

The music stopped as he hit me with another blast of magic. The healing rhyme I had been working on faded… the whole world went quiet as his spell took hold. The wizard was still pummeling me with magic. This time I was on fire for real. I have to say, the Mistshadow would be proud of how real his -illusions- had been in the past.

I saw Chocolate running toward us. I hardly ever see her run. This is when the next surprise came to pass. As she ran she was screaming at Xinreal. I really wish I knew what she was saying. Her sword drawn, beautiful, indestructible… Lady Firehair must have been pleased when Chocolate shouted at Xinreal. She wasn't going to let him taint anything else. Much less the two of us.

Her blade glowed. She muttered some sort of incantation that shattered the wizard's protections. Then she screamed. I covered my ears as her voice rose. The scream she used was that one I have seen her kill people with. Catching just the right pitch and notes that people just fall over. Dead. She hits that note that shatters eardrums and then minds. The wizard, no longer protected against my voice or hers, had the briefest look of pain.

She dropped the wizard just like that. His spirit stood there, howling angrily once the confusion faded. Then he really went nuts. His spirit clawed at her in a fit of maniacal rage.

A burst of divine energy from Chocolate threw the spirit back. With a deadly grace I had never seen in her before, she thrust the now glowing blade into his spirit… and he was gone.

Her sword had changed, blessed by her goddess. And suddenly everything was quiet… All at once the incantation of the wizard faded and that silence became a deafening roar. At least I could speak again. I choked on the words, and Chocolate came rushing over to help me get my wounds mended up.

When we looked to where the wizard had fallen… there was nothing but a single, red rose.
~~

A gift from Sune. Chocolate is pretty happy. Been talking about being graced again since we left those ruins yesterday. I may have rotten luck with family, the blood relations… but I have pretty good luck with Sisters.

So it turns out that Toad Prince and Xinreal were one in the same. We destroyed those artifacts and the whole ruin collapsed. Had it not been for the fact that we both could enchant ourselves to run -very- fast… I wouldn’t be writing. He had intended to lure me in, use me in some sort of arcane rite to restore his spirit to his body.

Talk about crazy wizards… this one took the cake, sis. He had slowly gone insane. He had a golem that he ‘animated’ to put things in place just so. Set the whole thing up to lure me in. Used all sorts of tricks to pull the whole mess off. He had intended to kill me all along. Cale is still dead… Mother is… wherever she ended up. Likely wherever she deserved. No trip to the Abyss. I’d have been toast if she hadn’t followed. I shudder to think what he intended for her if we hadn't been able to best him. Wonder if she finally believes that wizards are lusty rotters too from time to time now?

We are on our way back to Baldur’s Gate. Chocolate having Whiskey’s money turned out to be a good thing. Means I don’t have to sing our way home.
~~

Home sweet home. For now at least. Chocolate and Whiskey are getting married tomorrow. Then they are taking off to the Moonshae Isles for a honeymoon. Everyone keeps talking about me getting in a more permanent relationship. Maybe someday, but not right now. Anders is still out there somewhere. I’m not afraid of him anymore. Let him find me. Let him try to take me back to Waterdeep. They might have been able to cage a Songbird… but they will NEVER cage a Phoenix.

Now that I have nothing tying me down anywhere, I am thinking about sating my own curiosity. I’m hoping that Xinreal was from dear, sweet mother’s side of the family. Hoping that my father was just some sailor that got duped into a drunken on-night stand, and robbed. Maybe… just maybe one member of my actual family isn’t a total pile of rot. I hope. Things change. Sometimes for the better. All I know is that I am finally free… and if my father is out there, and a decent man… I want to know. Not sure where to start looking, but I have plenty of time. I’ll head out in a few days.

This Phoenix has some flying to do. Maeve is buying a blue dress!
~~



[Pressed neatly between the last poem, and the back cover, is a single, beautiful, red rose… Scarlett’s favorite shade of red. It is tied with a sapphire blue ribbon.]

[ENTRY FIFTY-THREE]

What now, I wonder… How many times have I asked myself that since I came back to the Coast? I thought to buy a gown of blue silk… but I couldn’t. You know what the problem is with happy endings? It’s not always so easy to catch the line written on the page: “And they happily ever after…” I know. You would tell me I am being difficult again. Impossible to please, unwilling to accept things at face value, eternally looking for what lay beneath the surface. I can’t help it. What good is it to claim happy ever after when the villain still lurks in the distant shadows. Ready to strike as soon as you drop your guard. The trouble with happy endings is not that they don’t exist… Simply that I can’t be happy with a promise half kept. That I can’t be happy with this sort of ending I’ve found… that may not be the ending at all, but rather the closing of a chapter and the turning of a page.

The Heroine and her Dashing Rescuer… What did they do once the book was closed? They didn’t die. So what happened? I’ve never seen a book titled “Prince Charming and His Lovely Family in the Ridiculously Calm Ever After”. Possibly because the bloody title is too long, but you get my point. I could make this some sort of happy ending, but it would seem so… false. I don’t mind lying to the world, Seraphim… but just once… once only… I’d like to tell myself the truth. Even if I wouldn’t like hearing it.

The Truth: It isn’t an ending until I am dead… and I find death a less than happy prospect. In this, there is no Happy Ever After, because no matter how you look at it, there will always be another disaster. Another Cale, Another this or that to ruin it all… right down to the poisoned apple. I’m sorry, Sis… I’ve made a promise I can’t keep. Maybe though… I can make a different promise?

I can promise to continue to rise like any proper phoenix should. I can promise to make the best of it all. I can even promise that some day I will don a blue gown to rival the finest fairy tale princesses and dance into the next chapter with a genuine smile. I can promise to try to stop Anders, and every sod like him from hurting anyone the way we were hurt. I can promise to be something better, and to be happy… But I can’t promise a happy ending.

All I can promise now, all anyone could promise… Is to try to be happy with whatever that ending might yet be… and do the best to make all the pages that turn before that as full of starlight as they could be. I promised you the stars, when I should have promised you all the wonder I could fill them with. I hope you understand and accept this little revision. I’ll look for you between the moonbeams and amid the mist… And I hope both of us are smiling. In the meanwhile… May the Lady guard us both, may the angels guard our stars, and may there be dancing. May there always be music… and some day a song to sing.
~~

[ENTRY FIFTY-FOUR]

It had been a day. That is an understatement. Too many sodding idiots on the Coast, and I find myself wondering now and then why I even came back… But then again, you and I both know the answer to that, Seraphim. I’ve seen quite a few faces that I hadn’t seen in some time… Quite a few that I could have gone a while longer without seeing, but such is the way of things. Promises are tricky things. I did it to myself. Three promises to three different people, and so far I am managing… but days like today it is extremely difficult. Some people just have a knack for making me want to bury a blade in some tender place and watch them try to apologize while choking on their own blood.

And yet… I traded words and words only. Promise kept, and not a drop of blood spilt. It was a steady stream of sharp edged battles most of the day, and though I had been winning the matches, all save one… Clever bastard. I can honestly say it was a pleasure to be so well out played. Pity when the games end though. I genuinely wish him well in future dances. I’d pity what ever poor girl he sets his sights on next, if it weren’t for the fact that I know all to well there will be little to pity. Pride in me insists the game ended in a stalemate, but if the Lady can forgive a moment of honesty… I would be a fool to do little more than gracefully accept defeat.

The minstrel, Julindra attempted to play along today. I say attempted not because she lacks skill, because Mist and Shadow, she doesn't. She takes a missed note rather… unpleasantly. It was like watching a storm, though to my ear her mistake was barely noticeable had she kept playing. In any rate, it lead to an interesting discussion. Knowing though that she has that kind of temper? Useful enough. If only she could focus it on some idiot… it would save the Lute the trouble and likely net her a successful scrap. She’s not the fighting type she says… Next time the undead attack… I am going to try to get her to focus that missed note rage on some walking bones. Lightning. That is what she is… a quick and brilliant flash of destruction.

The day was made all the more -pleasant- by the re-emergence of my favorite puppet. Absence makes the heart grow fonder indeed. If it were possible, she hates me more than I thought. She is amusing though. She jabs and pokes, but in the end it is infinitely wonderful to watch her squirm under the stars. She’s out of practice I think. I’ll give her time. Then we can have a proper match she and I… Gods above, one day there will be blood… which is an infinitely cheerful thought.

Then a reprieve of sorts presented itself in the face of Dreamer’s biggest fan… or once biggest. So many ask what happened to Dreamer, some even wonder if I killed him… maybe not outwardly… Broken hearts aren’t always fatal. No doubt the Dreamer is drowning in Athkatlan rum with a tart on each arm… Safe bet at least one of them has horns and breathes fire. Bastard. If he is dead, I’d almost be sad it wasn’t by my hand. He came so close to ruining -everything-. He doesn’t even realize it either… so hung up on his selfish broken heart. No matter. For the best at any rate. He only thinks he would have been happy. A phoenix can spot the ones who shouldn’t be caged easy enough. As deliciously ironic as it would have been to be the one with the key to the cage doors… Not sure I have the heart for it.

This reprieve lead to a drink, which was nice enough. Fascinating how time changes people. Still don’t trust him, but in the least he has dropped the doting puppy act. Somehow we got on the topic of fighting. This lead to some sparring. It is useful to know limits. Not only your own… but the limits of those around you, and especially those you don’t particularly trust. In any rate, it was a useful exchange in more ways than one. A very pointed reminder of how forlorn a world without music truly is. Desperate and feral… and something I should like to avoid.

Subject: There should be Dancing...

Perhaps it was the silence in the wake of the remainder of the day that found me so restless? It was only late afternoon, and I found myself humming along with the wind and walking. Couldn’t really say that I was not surprised to find myself in Beregost, my feet dancing along a familiar path… the same one walked when I first arrived on the Coast. Odd bit of irony in that too I suppose. It may be the same dance, but it is hardly the same dancer… This one smiles more. With only one real worry these days… I suppose the dancer can afford a few more smiles.

Deva Queen’s smiles are infectious. She may be insane, but I think I like that best about her. Her and her feet. Seen some odd things, never someone who talked to her feet. Works for her though. At least her feet love to dance. There should always be music… and as often as possible a dance to go with it.

There were a few others there too. The Dancing Knight, The Headmaster, the quirky one… Bre. That might be his nickname. Quirk. There was a cheery little elf there too, never got her name, but no matter. I will learn the actual name someday. For now she can be called Sprite. You’d have to see her face and watch her dance to understand it truly. She’s young for an elf, and so ungodly happy. Sprite fits.

So I started to play, and they started to dance. It was grand… truly. The irritations of the day began to fade as the day itself faded. It was promising to be a beautiful night. The sky was clear and in the late day sun, the air was balmy and pleasant. Before long, Lightning had joined us, and lucky for her lute, was playing spectacularly.

We had them dancing in the streets. That is what magic is, sis… I understand after all this time. You used to tell me how wonderful it was to just see people happy. I never really believed you, and I am sorry for that. Music… not on a stage or from behind closed doors and bars… When it is truly allowed to take all the form it wishes… When it is really music… has such wondrous power. A beautiful thing to behold and an addicting sense of power. To set a mood or change it for a crowd… with little more than a melody… And this eve… there was laughter and joy. No deadly lullabies, no laments to war or broken hearts, no battle marches … Just joy, and it was mine. Mine as much as it was theirs… because in the end… we all belonged to the music.

Then something amazing went running by… a flash of white and silver. I don’t really think anyone believed we had seen it… None the less we were all wandering in the direction looking for it. I thought maybe it was a ghost or some divine servant. That or the dwindling daylight was playing tricks on our eyes.

We found ourselves at the edge of the city, the consensus was that it had been a unicorn. Given the creatures’ love for music, it was a possibility. Curiously I hummed a waltz as we stood there watching the very night come alive in the forest near Beregost. Most of the townsfolk had wandered off to sleep when the music stopped. Not sure how long we all stood there… before it stepped from the shadows of the trees…

It enjoyed the music… A higher compliment could not be paid to any musician, save that which might have come from the gods… The unicorn wished us to play more. More than a little awestruck at such an honored request… I glanced to Lightning… gripped by a sudden bit of stage fright. What do you play for a beast that embodies music, dream, legend and all the light in the stars? It was your voice on the wind that offered me comfort. A voice that none had heard join the duet as this night unfolded. I am glad you could be there, Seraphim, even if only from between the moonbeams. The balmy day fell into mist laden night… and the very forest came out to dance.

It was a marvel to watch the creature dance. The way the mane caught the moonlight, horn seeming to glimmer with echoes of long fallen stars. Selune herself must have wept for joy… just this once. Lightning played beautifully, perfectly… Your voice on the wind, her lute, my violin… The Mistshadow herself danced… Everyone danced… Never have I seen something so enchanted in all my days… Never will I again. If only for a night… I danced amid the stars instead of beneath them…
~~

[ENTRY FIFTY-FIVE]

[A crumbled note with a single line of text is crammed between the pages here. The script within is written less neatly than normal. Indeed the writing seems fragmented, as if done in small bits over a period of time or in an agitated state of mind.]

There are very few times when the world is left to silence. In the wake of the carefully crafted illusions that have shattered… the silence was profound… a deep unfathomable chasm… One I was tempted to fall to. Hells… I would take the eternity death offers before I would let that bastard have his way.

Damn it all! Why now? Not sooner, when I had plenty around I could trust… Not later when I have the chance to get a few more able swords… that I trust… no. Like the clever bastard he is… His timing is perfectly suited to his game. A game that has changed, and he intends to play for keeps. I’ve messed it up, sis. Knew all this honestly and giving a damn for the rest of them would catch up to me. Mist and Shadow…

I don’t know what to do. Can’t run, just what he wants is for me to turn and make a run for it. Which would be worse than suicidal. Need to stay near what few resources I have. I need to come up with something. Quickly. Bloody messed this up royal. You can’t lie to a liar… I’ve been found out.

The messenger didn’t ask for Maeve or just say “hey you look like the girl I was supposed to find.” No… He asked for Scarlett… specifically. The bastard knows. He bloody, sodding knows! And he’s close enough to send along his signature promises…

"I was hired to deliver a gift to yah, if ya are. Must be a secret admirer."

The man pulled out a carefully wrapped box… Everyone else was excited like it was some sort of grand thing. A budding romance… If only it were so simple. Even at first glance it seemed like a thoughtful gift. A very well made dagger. Sturdy hilt, fine steel… meticulous and familiar carvings down the blade…

I nearly dropped the damned dagger on my foot. Looked identical to the one that I took with me… after carving Cale into a dozen or so bits…
The handwriting was unmistakable on the note… The whole world fell into silence. The Lady drew her cloak back, and the music stopped. I found myself with no place to hide, no recourse, no exit… Just a clawing, deep, blackened silence… And in its wake I could hear one voice. He may as well been in my ear whispering. Not as if I could mistake it. That silken drawl… I panicked to make matters worse.

It was a matched set. Perfectly matched. Though the one I had longest bore a deep scratch in the hilt from that Balor I faced and … Hells as bad as that was? I’d take the Balor over Anders any day… Every day maybe… Gods damn the bastard! Secret Admirer my arse… Anders’ … admirations … for me are certainly no secret.

Maeve isn’t who she used to be. I am not some simpering girl anymore… Damn sure in the Nines I am not his bloody harlot. I won’t go back to it, sis. I’ll see him dead. Promise made is a promise kept. If it weren’t for the fact that Anders would be just as bloody content with my corpse? I’d slit my own throat for spite… Since that isn’t an option, running isn’t an option, hiding isn’t an option, going back damned sure isn’t… he dies. Sounds simple like that.

Trouble is, its never that simple. I trotted off, with guards… even tossed coins at Fan Club just to have a blade between me and whatever might be out there. Low blow to my pride, sure… but it isn’t something I am going to leave to chance. He may be the cat he always was, but I am no little sparrow… he won’t have such an easy time caging me up. You can’t cage a phoenix… Still, there is the chance he has more resources than I left him with, which means I could be in trouble if caught alone or unprepared. So I will just make sure that never happens.

I’m well enough off maybe… got a few friends I can trust, and enough folks that like to help the ‘damsel in distress’ enough… it might be enough. It will have to be. I don’t have a choice. Reputation speaks for itself though. Fortunately, I have that at least. Logical first step was to talk to the influential key points of that Reputation. As luck would have it, a couple of Platinum’s knightly sorts were about. The Priss… for all her ‘I came from Waterdhavian nobility blah blah’ is useful, and likes me well enough. She isn’t all bad, even if she is some spoiled merchant’s daughter. Wonder if her dear sweet father ever visited the Dive? The other one I hadn’t met, but if Platinum trusts him, for now that is enough for me.

Fan Club wouldn’t leave well enough alone. Kept trying to rile me, and it may or may not given it away when I didn’t bite back as he jabbed and poked. Had other things on my mind. Cleared out my room at the Friendly Arm, paid up my debt to the gnome, Ironically with the last tiny bit of Anders’ money. Short on coin now, have a little left over from the trip to take care of great-great-whatever-grandfather-psycho-wizard. Tossed some of that at Fan Club, if only to shut him up.

When we were headed off to see Platinum, the one named Aranath was summoned. Irony strikes again as we were headed that way anyway. Then when we get there, we learn about some sort of trouble with some Nagas (turns out those are giant, upright snake bastards, and not dragon kin like we always imagined).

So I seized the opportunity for what it was. I’d help Platinum if he could return the favor. Turns out the one named Aranath was a squire, and I could just see the Priss getting her fingers all bloody. It was all rather convenient. They needed help, so did I. Fan Club and some smart little Hin went along too. We were to trot off to meet some wizard who would teleport us, unfortunately near Waterdeep I thought.

Also unfortunate that the arrogant bastard of a wizard can’t land his piss in the pot likely as well as he put us in the right spot. Took us a bit to get our bearings. The Hin, he seemed to be pretty smart about finding his way around the middle of no where. Unfortunately I was out of my element on top of not thinking straight. Come to think of it, that is the first time I have ever been so far away from a city or a road. The Hin tried to get us turned around the right way, but the knightling was in a hurry, and the Naga things were being problematic.

Note to self: Not sure what sort of shite those shadow walkers used, but I need to get some for when I give Anders his present back… and invest in some restoratives. I’ll take care of that tomorrow.

Not sure what to think of it… except I feel bad for how it ended, but I saw my second Unicorn in a tenday. This one was nice enough to give us directions. Also warned us just before we were attacked… fought along side us, and … gave us a chance to win out the ambush. Sadly… it died. I felt bad for it, tried to help it… but at that point, we were hurt for time. If we didn’t get where we bloody should have been… Damned wizards… We’d have more than a dead Unicorn on our hands. I hummed an Elven lament in its honor as we picked our way through the forests to where we needed to be.

By the time we got to the fringes, things were already bad. Snakes are sneaky bastards… Naga are sneakier… and bigger bastards. Still, I know that everyone was here for different reasons, even if we all had to see the same end result. Had to keep them in one piece, and tear up the Naga. I was there to make sure I had some way to cover my arse later… Duty, gold and curiosity seemed to drive the others. I could have cared less about all that. A strictly selfish moment, that for once benefited someone other than myself.

Fought all bloody night. Was touch and go in a few spots. I know I damn near died at least twice. Was hard to focus at times. I found the music harder to find. The rhythm, but we managed. Things could have gone a lot worse… even when the bastards some how got behind us. The folks left us some supplies, and shut the ones who couldn’t fight in. We ended up on our own in the small hours of the morning… the stars overhead were exceptionally lovely, almost mockingly so. Fittingly enough I sang a few lullabies.

By morning the bedraggled lord was stepping from his equally worn looking manor house. We were showered with coin and given a few useful tidbits. I’ve a nice blade that should leave the trolls right pissed off next time I come over to play… May even save it and burn Anders’ tongue out of his bloody throat when I get the chance.

Either way, the wizard that sent us back was more competent. Platinum and I will have to talk after I get some rest, but my end of the deal was held up. Not that I wouldn’t help the man just because he asked me to, gods know I owe him a favor or two. He’s already pulled me out of plenty of scraps… maybe he can help a bit more to get me out of one more. Even if its just putting a good word in.

For now, I am going to try to get some bloody rest. Not that I likely will, but I am exhausted. Need to rest up and figure out what to do in the morning… Pray for me, sis… If the Mistshadow could turn her cloak to me one more time… if she doesn’t… Watch over me from between the moonbeams…
~~

[ENTRY FIFTY-SIX]

A mixed day of sorts… for once with a relatively happy ending. Like any good story it starts out badly… Though not as bad as it could I suppose. Hard to say. Lightning and I had a disagreement of sorts. Ironically, over stories. She just doesn’t get it sometimes. She’s so busy trying to make a world lost to despair weep. So busy trying to fit the world into her romantic tragedies… that she misses the tragic right in front of her naïve nose. Sure, I’ve been said to be rather doom and gloom with my poetry. But mostly because people are too narrow minded to understand the metaphors. People don’t need more to weep about. They just don’t. Even I figured that out.

Was trying to tell me that her story I stomped away from the day before was something I missed out on. That I might have been surprised by the ending. HA! It would either have some ridiculous “Happy Ever After” which we both know, sis isn’t how it works. Or it would somehow end more terribly than a pair of harlots sold off to feed someone else’s addiction… and every moment of the Eleventh Hell we endured. No. I don’t need a bloody story. I don’t need some dramatized version of it. Don’t need the suffering down played like it meant -nothing-. I damned sure don’t need to hear how it worked out nice and neat for someone else. Least of all for the idiot that was addicted in the first place. You can’t tell me that someone addicted to -anything- cares about -anything else-. And that is what happens with those stories.

She keeps trying to cram everyone into her books. Put us all in parts. Strip away everything that makes us different and cast us in some sadly written morality play. Maybe I might be more open minded about it all if I didn’t have the ruler of the Eleventh Hell come to drag me back. Not likely though. -I- don’t need more to weep about. I can’t stomach those kinds of stories. She keeps pushing… until there was a less than pleasant exchange of words in which I called her dangerously naïve and left.

For the second time in as many days, I found myself on the road, alone and in contemplation of the past and the future. My mind was so lost among the stars full of dreams and the past full of shadow… That barely noticed the trouble watching me from across the road. A rustling in some bushes across the way. Deep in shadows cast by the rocks and the moonlight. As always my ears painted devils where my eyes only saw darkness. My luck it couldn’t have been a mongrel dog to kill or something…

I took a step or two across the wagon-rutted Tradeway. Hand on the hilt of my sword and not sure to expect ogres or something else. Bandits have been bad on the roads of late. I neared a bit closer, and called out. That is when I nearly got trampled by a horse and rider. I ducked as the horse leapt from the bushes behind the rocks. It took off at a gallop. I really wish now that I had gotten a good look at the rider. For once I cursed the lack of daylight.

I was going to scurry north and hope someone saw something. I knew there was no way I could catch a horse and rider on foot. Unsettled about being watched, I was going to head north more because I was spooked and didn’t want to be alone. As always though… Curiosity won. As the sun began to creep over the horizon, I stepped over to the rider’s hiding place. I think I would have preferred to find a Balor waiting…

Instead I found a ceramic bottle, elegantly simple, sitting atop a scrap of parchment. The bottle was easy enough to recognize. Alurlyath. Waterdeep’s more famous wine. Also more expensive. Rumored to come from the bowels of Undermountain. If fairy tales had wine for romantic evenings … it should be Alurlyath. The Adventurer’s Wine. It’s said to glow… though I have never found out, and don’t intend to. A white wine, and supposedly rather good. Not that I would ever find out. I’d sooner break the bottle over his head and kill him with the dagger he gave me.

I miss the (fun person) we used to sneak away from time to time. You used to laugh because I complained it tickled my nose. The Waterdhavian Red isn’t bad… but I miss the variety from time to time. Not that anyone who didn’t know me would know any different. The crimson clad poet with a fire in her heart and soul can only drink red wine, right? Anders either knew that we were stealing wine from time to time… or he made a very clever and unnerving guess. Unfortunately both prospects are just as … unsettling.

If the bottle had come from any other soul? It would have been a terribly romantic gesture that might have captured the heart of any self-respecting woman who thought love and spiritual torment would be a good idea. Fortunately there isn’t some poor man trying to win an unattainable heart. Unfortunately… the gift carried a much more sinister note. Literally.


Bastard. Is he suggesting I would look so lovely in virginal white? Now there is a laughable thought. Another taunt. One that I hadn’t honestly expected. I had meant to go south and get wine. I went south… I got wine… and suddenly I didn’t feel much like drinking. Least of all a red wine. Of course no one saw a horse and rider… though the roads were surprisingly empty. What with the rumors of the forests ill and undead and what not… No one travels much in the late night or the small hours of the morning… Only I could be so lucky as to lose a horse and rider on an empty road in the still of pre-dawn.

I stayed with the crowds most of the day. Not really listening to the chatter. My mind wandered until I found the day mostly gone… along with the people. In the wake of the quiet and evening twilight, I found the hairs on the back of my neck on edge. Those moments in the story just before the evil villain jumps out to capture the beloved princess. I was no beloved princess… but it was no less dangerous for me to stand alone.

Luck would have it that the Dancing Knight happened by. I took advantage of the moment to add another willing blade to my list. Ironically and by some intention of my own… From apologizing to Ms. Prim and Proper Wavesilver… to the Dancing Knight and several others, my soul basis for my trust was the trust that they were given by Platinum. I need allies. Friends are best maybe… though less expendable. I need people I can trust, and I need to mind myself. If Anders wants to play games, I need to keep what little good reputation I have. Only problem is… I care and want them safe… or safe as possible. Like Platinum has said though… I can’t make choices for them. They have to know exactly what they are standing for… and against.

The game is up. No longer do I need the ruse meant to keep people away. Now I need them close and willing to stand up for me. This should be easier though maybe. Truth comes easier these days. This won’t take a ruse… but I will have to be more honest. I’ll admit there are some things I would rather keep to myself, but if they see some well spoken, silver tongued fop… instead of the Hells spawned snake he really is… I’m in trouble.

Once the Dancing Knight escorted me back to the Friendly Arm Inn… I spent the rest of the day wandering from crowd to crowd. Seeming with the wild and wandering spirit of a poet, when instead it was a careful bit of maneuvering to keep from being caught alone. I worried briefly when I caught myself alone as the sun set. It was brief. For I was no longer alone almost as soon as I noticed it.

It was in spying the woman with the pink hair that I was reminded of another worry. The Unicorn they had wanted me to try to sing out of seclusion. The one I refused to summon in the midst of giant diseased treants and undead. The woods were sick from this one called the Shadow Master… the once proud druid who fell so far… forsaken by his former faith, and embraced by the very sickness he permeated.

Much had happened since I refused to lure a unicorn to a crowd of people selfish in wanting and less than trust worthy, not to mention the best of the worst that Talona and her new champion had to offer. Now her champion lay dead. The fires that consumed him, blessed by the very forest itself. Blessed, I am told by a Unicorn. The monochromatic paladin of Mielikki, Kald Blake the hand that struck the diseased branch from the life that struggled here.

It was these thoughts that reminded me of the worry for the beast I hoped was safe. The Unicorn that had remained hidden. Of all the people I could find this night, she was one of the few I thought that I could perhaps trust with both my music and my worry. She agreed to look for him with me, and as the sun dipped low on the afternoon horizon. So off we set into the woods.

It was then that the day started to improve… Ironic that it came at the day’s near end. Though neither of us were skilled in the ways of the wilds we started off at the fringes of the woods. Poor girl was worried I was a doppelganger of sorts or something meant to lure her to her doom. True it was slightly odd given how well we actually knew each other. She looked like she had stepped from the pages of some distant fairy tale, daughter of a Fey king or some sort. Though when I asked, she hinted that her own tale was not so grand or pleasant.

She took me to a place, a ring of mushrooms and a hum of magic just like those enchanted places we read about in our fairy tales and whimsical stories. She bid me be still and listen, that I could hear the power of the place… indeed I heard. I heard something else there… Hard to explain. The forest and all in it… Still and quiet, in dire need of recovery from the wounds inflicted upon it. In that stillness, it was not so quiet as it first appeared. As all things the forest sang. Its song broke my heart. Never in all my days had I heard a lament so full of pain and sorrow. So full of suffering… I wanted more than anything to teach it a new song… One of joy, but that would require healing. It would require time. For now, we sought merely to make sure that the Unicorn rumored and not yet found was well.

We followed the river, the only sure way to make sure we did not lose our way in the twisted woods. I had never realized how much the Cloakwood looked like some haunted and beautiful woodland wild-scape from a tale until I saw it in the evening light. It seemed better for the Shadow Master’s death, though still wounded. Like some majestic thing with a broken limb. Haunted by the dark things that had clung to it all these years, and perhaps the years none cared to remember before that… It was like walking into a story and I feared for a moment getting lost and swallowed by it.

A small badger caught the Fey-Child’s eye. I had long since picked up the melody of the land around us, and followed her humming. This was how the actual fairy tale started. Once upon a time… a Poet and a Fey-Child followed a small woodland creature up river into the haunted woods…

You know me, sis… it is hard to sit still, to not hum or tap the music that I can always hear. Here we were, walking along and mostly quiet, save for the waltz I hummed in step with the forest. The badger didn’t seem to mind us very much. It paused to drink, and we paused to pick our path further through the woods. Not that we got that far…

My thoughts were quickly side tracked by the mass of butterflies that seemed to hover about. It was as though they had followed the music, and now they danced. The Fey-Child had said perhaps someone needed to teach the forest a new song… Carefully, slowly I drew out your violin, Seraphim. The twilight of dusk leant an oddly enchanting light to the landscape as I began to play. I took the melody the forest offered, and added to it a note of cheer. What came next was a gradually increasing sense of wonder. The feeling that surely I had waltzed into a dream.

At first it was small creatures. Rabbits, squirrels, weasels, some otter in the river… and a large wild boar that came splashing through the river to join us. Usually hostile, the boar showed no interest in staking territory or driving us from our spot along the river. I would not have been surprised if wolves or some large forest cat watched from within or behind the trees. A pair of deer even. Dozens of butterflies, fireflies, dragonflies all seemed to dance in a dizzying array of twinkle and color. Hundreds maybe. By far my largest audience ever. If that were not enchanting enough…

I thought it a trick at first, until I realized that the trees were in fact moving closer… Swaying lightly. Some but young saplings, others great and towering… Treants. Not fearsome like the ones we fought before, but graceful and regal. Sprites and pixies too, even a Dryad. She danced in the fading daylight to the melodies I played. They all did. I dared not stop playing for fear that whatever spell that was being woven would be broken. The forest was dancing. There on my fairy-tale, river-bank stage… the world was dancing. My heart soared on each note…

If the daunting size of my audience, or its present nature was not nearly enchanting enough… Heavy footfalls drew my attention to the approach of a creature much like royalty among those gathered. A great steed, white as the purest snows, standing taller than even the tallest man, nearly as broad as I was long… Bearded face, and silvered mane showing his age and wisdom… a prince among beasts, crowned with the most regal of horns I had ever hoped to see. It glinted as the twilight dance of moonlight and sunlight played off of it. The very air around us seemed to fill with grace, goodness and beauty of ages come and gone.

I nearly lost my nerve to play as he stepped close enough I dare say I could have touched my finger tips to his snout if I had dared be so bold… Somehow the music played on… at this point perhaps because it had taken on a life of its own, pouring from me in spite of my stage fright. I watched in awe, filled with an almost girlish wonder and giddy sense of joy… More intoxicating than any wine or spirit… And yet there was something there that gave even the most wounded of spirits… the wings to soar.

When at last I drew the music to a close and opened my eyes… completely expecting to find I was dreaming, and would wake to my room in the inn… Instead I still stood in the middle of the heart of the woods, and still stood among my fairy tale audience. It was then that we were told of the danger that still lurked. People would dismiss the trouble to the forests and lands too swiftly. With the Shadow Master dead, so many thought the trouble over… but it wasn’t. They spoke, each in their own way… and through whatever magic of this dream that was not a dream… we understood, the Fey-Child and I both.

Those who would aid him were still plaguing the balance… still spreading sickness and hate through some tainted means. More servants of Talona if I understood right. Also a black dragon… young but gathering to her allies… and meaning naught but ill to all around that stood in the way of her hate and greed. The Fey-Child knew of this dragon, and was pleased to learn where the beast laired. Jarlfalud, she was called. Even the name sounded vile and hateful. Black dragons were renowned for venomous hearts and greed.

The wizened unicorn was well, and we were assured he would stay well. We were also assured that the forest would recover, but not without aid of those who would help stop the spread of taint. Not without decent souls to stand for them or with them against servants of poison and disease. I would help, if only to preserve the beauty I had found here this evening… but it was more than that. It was time I stopped being the selfish girl I was more often than not. This seemed as good a place as any to start.

I had been granted an honor few could so much as dream of, and it felt right to revere it somehow… to offer help if I could. As the moon rose overhead, the creatures of the forest bid us goodnight, each in their own way. I watched in subdued awe as this audience of mine parted. If ever there was a time I wished a story to have an “And they lived happily Ever After…” on it, it would be this one. I truly hope that whatever plagues the Cloakwood passes.

It was sad to see this dream of sorts come to an end… we were quiet as we walked back through the woods in the dark. We followed the river back the way we came, and made our way to the Friendly Arm… both of us were pleasantly tired after an evening of dancing and wonderment. I almost fear to share it, sis… you know what they say of dreams and wishes… Share them with careless hearts and they fade.

Perhaps I shall simply be careful of my audience, though I doubt few would believe it even if I told them. It truly was magical. Twice now… I have stood on the edges of a dream and played for nobility of a different sort. It is a rather humbling thought… truly. Something I am not used to… but perhaps it is a sign of things to come. Maybe, if I really try… I can make my own happy ending… once upon a time…
~~

[ENTRY FIFTY-SEVEN]

How many things, sis, have we done and looked back and wished we hadn’t? How many times have we dreamed only to wish we hadn’t? Today was a day for looking back, and looking over shoulders… First the looking back…

The one brilliant moment of the day, glittering and shining of deepest bronze… We had been sitting about the camp, enjoying a day thus far blessedly short of rain clouds. Figurative or literal. A discussion of my ability to find the mythic in the mundane lead to a discussion of dragons. Which lead to an interesting debate.

Funny how one thing leads to another… How something done ages ago can ripple through time and culminate to one, simple moment… only to echo on forever after and resound in another moment in the distant reach of time. Today I watched resounding echoes touch notes nearly forgotten, and I have no doubt they will echo endlessly like the lingering strains of a melody you cannot chase from your thoughts…

The topic of debate? Whether or not dragons could indeed be good. Prissy Missy was, of course, the only one to believe that there was no such thing as an inherently good dragon… the rest were opposed to such. The nature of chromatic and metallic dragons brought into call. Badly out numbered in her opinion, and terribly wrong, the argument took an interesting turn when a rustle in the bushes drew our attention.

What should we find there but a rather young, and very shy bronze dragon. A lovely thing really, straight out of another of your stories… There were varying states of awe and intrigue at her arrival, save for Prissy Missy who went so far as to tend her precious nails in the presence of something more noble than all of Waterdeep’s splendors. I found her acute disinterest and rude behavior to the one thing, standing proof that she was wrong, both arrogant and amusing. Funny how people refuse to see what is right in front of them. Perhaps that is what makes it so easy to hide a lie in plain sight behind a truth? Or a truth carefully hidden beneath a nose at all?

The creatures shy demeanor and timid nature was a fascination. What changes must she endure to be stripped of that naïveté by the time she has grown into the towering, haughty beauty she will have the right to be? I almost wept for her, truly. I envied her that she was well tended until she struck out on her own to discover the legacy her father had left her…

Some part of me wondered what legacy my own father might have left… and then cast it off in disgust. No legacy of a bastard who lay with a harlot like my mother is anything I would wish to carry. If I carry a legacy… I will make my own.

From what little I have heard of her father though… his was a legacy she will carry proudly. I hope in the secret corners of my heart that she find some valiant protector until she may bear the length and breadth of it. Shelter her from her father’s enemies. No good deed goes unpunished, and his sound noble enough to echo for generations… This… It is this truth that angers me, for I understand what it is to be haunted by the legacy of a generation passed… To think you have nearly soared above it before it reaches with tooth and claw to drag you back down… I can’t explain this odd and new protective streak I have discovered. Some misguided attempt to surpass the harlot I was? Or a genuine wish to protect them from a disaster I know like the back of Anders’ hand across my face?

She indulged her curiosity and our own before flying off and leading the topic to a dragon much less noble as the sun set. The black Dragon that Fey-Child and the Unicorn had spoke of. Damn the restless hearts of those who wish to save the world… in the middle of the night at the heart of an undead riddled and haunted forest…

Back to the blind leading the blind… So It might have been easier to find our way in the daylight. All Lillith and I knew was that we were to follow the river… but in the dark and with undead about, we got turned around. Once we got to the shadowed and twisted parts of the Cloakwood… it was difficult to tell where we were much less which way we were going. Very little moonlight filtered through there, and I couldn’t even find the river bank clearing that had been my stage the night before. We were a sizable group, tromping in a forest that for intents and purposes was sick and driven half mad… with no idea where exactly we were or were going… and somewhere there was a Black Dragon, smelly and vile waiting to have us over for dinner.

We came to the logical conclusion that water flowed downhill, and we were looking for a swamp. In doing that we soon caught smell of the swamp that we were nearing. Mind you to get to this point… it took all night. By dawn we had traded undead for Kobolds. Not the weak minded ones you find rotting in small caves, but well trained ones… with the benefit of a dragon’s intelligence and wisdom… and even greed to spur them forward in some sense of order. It made for difficult travel. I hate the scaly little dragon-kin bastards. Nearly got the best of us at least once… That I will admit to…

We found ourselves in a place that may well be more foul than The Dive, sis… and that is saying a lot. There was a trail of bodies that we meant to follow to a lair or what have you, which was a grand idea until the bodies started to jump up and try to tear our faces off. Yes. It was a lovely place. Night and most of the day wandering in some gods forsaken swamp, and I was starting to think we would never find the dragon.

That was before I heard it breathing. Followed by a massive shaking from the ground beneath us. I worried that the swamp was shifting and we were fixing to be swallowed in some sort of swamp sink hole or quicksand or something equally unpleasant and fatal. Imagine my relief when it turned out to only be a huge, pissed off, black dragon, upset that we had killed her minions. I was great after that… can you hear my sarcasm?

So then things get better. The plethora of paladins decided to make her more angry. In answer to it, the arrogant beast met arrogance with more arrogance… and thought to turn us against Lillith by making her out to be the shepherd leading us to the slaughter. Obviously that didn’t happen. And while quite the scrap the battle itself seemed far too… quick. You know that foreboding moment when you realize you just made it through the worst of it way too easy, only to later discover when it is too late… that you hadn’t made it through the worst of it?

It was like that. A gargantuan roar that shook the water in putrid puddles resounded through us and over everything… then a massive… great black shape took wing and flew away from us. I have no doubt that we made it pretty angry and that it will some day, be it sooner or later, come back to settle the score that we left that day. The others thought to destroy the corpse so it couldn’t become a draco-lich. A brilliant idea… until the bloody thing blows up and buries us all in putrid filth. And Prissy Missy was worried about a broken nail… Sure because that is so much worse than nearly dying either by drowning, suffocation or being eaten up by toxic refuse.

She isn’t so bad… I give her a lot of ire, but only because she is so ridiculously spoiled sometimes it is disgusting. Not as disgusting as warm dragon entrails maybe… but still… she proved her worth once or twice over the remainder of the moments between then and now… So the long and blissfully uneventful trek back… Likely because we smelled so bad the undead didn’t even want to bother, much less anything else. It was a victory of sorts, however hollow. One less evil thing in the world, hooray for us. Take it where you can find it some days. She and I had a talk, well it was mostly pleasant chatter among the group of noble but smelly companions drawn together by battle and overpowering stench… in the defeat of evil. No good deed goes unpunished. Ever.

It was straight to the inn to wash up, for all of us. Amazing what a good bath does for the mood, even if the water was only barely lukewarm, and I am out of citrus oils from the south. No shortage of cinnamon at least. Not even the brewing storm could dampen my mood. Though it would be the catalyst to lead to the downfall of that good mood. I have decided that there is some sort of ruling that spans the multi-verse stating that I am not allowed to remain happy.

The rain chased us inside, Prissy Missy, the Dancing Knight, Lightning and myself… we were going to have drinks maybe some breakfast even. Everyone was too tired to sleep or too awake to rest. Conversation and such was the logical conclusion to the last couple of days. Until we relaxed and settled into sleep. I was starving. It had been the better part of two days since I ate a proper meal that wasn’t trail rations. The sun was rising on a lovely stormy day…

And then a man came down the stairs. From my usual perch where the door to the upper floor and the exit were visible, his path was clearly visible. The vague nagging familiarity in the way he moved quickly dispelled when he turned briefly to give me a winning smile and a wink. I froze, not sure to trust my eyes and willing to blame it on lack of sleep. I felt the world stop. My -heart- stopped… I could feel the blood fleeing from my face as surely as if it tried to drag me down through the floor and away from that moment. The silence was deafening… Somewhere… some part of me realized that I had not run so far as I had thought… the games I thought were the product of safe distance faded… the world faded, narrowed on that single moment… That moment when the part of me that had clung so proudly to my freedom… died in some small way.

I feigned calm as my mind sought to rationalize the information my disbelieving eyes had given me. I stood and clung to the back of the chair to keep myself from falling through the floor as my heart sank. I thought desperately to convince myself that it was a trick of my tired mind, like I have so many other times… nearly succeeded too…

Until the gnomish innkeeper presented me with a glass of wine, compliments of the gent who left. I blinked at the sparkling clear liquid in the glass. He tapped his foot. Slowly, I reached for the glass. Some part of me knew that taking it would make it true. The others were watching. Protocol demanded I take the glass. Irrational fear begged me not to. I couldn’t run, I could barely move… I took the glass and sniffed its contents.

(fun person). The memories carried on that scent… your laughter, the stars captured in a bottle… hiding from monsters real and imagined… the misguided belief that a brief glimpse of happy ever after waited at the bottom of a bottle… a forbidden fruit, spirited away, a simple and secret happiness so carefully stolen. So foolishly thought sacred and untouchable… Trampled in an instant. The illusion shattered when the gnome handed me a note.
What came next was a desperate blur. The heart that had been trying to sink through the floor suddenly lurched forward, the world moved swiftly again… too swiftly. The desperate realization that time now worked against me. I barely remember paying more than I should for the room I was hastily leaving. Any illusion of calm I had thought to weave for the sake of my companions was quickly shattered and abandoned. Didn’t matter at that point.

I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t be able to out buy Anders… My resources what they were, horribly meager. I was suddenly glad for my share of the dragon’s hoard. And acutely aware of how little it was compared to the fortune Anders had no doubt set up for himself. I after all, had some sense of morality on how I had earned my coin… which put me at a disadvantage… None the less coin was readily changing hands as I thought to cover my tracks. Hard to do with friends close by…

“Lady Guard Me…”

A desperate prayer as I was wrapped in shadow and illusion… At least that moment she didn’t turn her back on me… It was a hurried flight north, since the guard said he went south. I prayed… I begged that the man hadn’t lied. Somewhere on the journey, the sickening realization that he had been across the hall as I bathed nearly set me to vomiting on the side of the road… Not that there was time.

He was smart. I should have perceived it and followed him… He would have known that the sparrow would fly -away- from the cat… who merely needed to wait for his prey to exhaust itself. I should have seen it, but didn’t. I was tired and thinking less than straight… as such I probably missed something important when the others were set on by assassins asking for their ‘Darlin’’. Damn if this new protective streak had me staying to try to help them rather than running without looking back. Loyalty is a deadly thing… and hells if it isn’t the only thing I have left to win this with… I just hope its enough.

I barely remember skittering into the temple of Torm, or the others arranging for me to stay there at least for the night. I’ll need to talk to Platinum… My stuff sits where I dropped it on the corner of the sofa in the antechamber. I remember pacing for hours. Trying to come up with a plan. Can’t out buy him. Likely can’t just kill him outright without that causing more harm than good… not to mention more trouble than I can get out of. No… If I am going to get away from him once and for all… the dogs need to see the cat for the fiend he is… and not the sheep he pretends to be. Then and only then can the bird fly free…

Metaphors aside… All I really have at this point is my morals, new found though they may be, friends, and my reputation. I’ve enough coin to make sure I don’t starve… I can think my way out of this… It would be faster if I had your wisdom to go with it. I’ll have to make due. I have the stars… The one and only thing he can’t touch, even if he does lay claim to every inch of me… the one thing he will never have is my dreams.
~~

[ENTRY FIFTY-EIGHT]

I’ve missed the forest for the trees somehow… and I am not talking about the enchanted fairy tales right now either, sis. Prissy Missy scraped my arse off the roof of the Friendly Arm today. Apparently, Someone did want me dead. Comforting thought really. It is the ones that hate you enough to let you live that scare me. This was more than just a death though. This was some sort of message… and I am not talking about the assassination… but the note in my pocket:

"Number five. Looks like we've spoons to use..."

Things around the roof are fuzzy. I remember the feeling that something was amiss. Thought it was the people after Bumble Bee. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. There are too many threads in this knot, and it is proving difficult to unravel. All I know is I died, and the bastards took the spoons. Had to be more than one of them from the shape my dress was in.

Five? That number popped up several times. Five gold for all those drinks? That man and that woman… the woman was a bad liar and a Bhaalist to boot. She was in room five. Tulip. Coincidence the alias she gave had five letters? Maybe. Could be my mind trying to spin new threads in to make the others work better together? I learned something aside from her faith though. Cleric and Paladins are the worst at catching hints. I might have gotten more information if things hadn’t come to blows.

I knew better than to ask Prissy Missy to lie. So Rather than give a fake name… it was useful to give a real name. Not only did she not have to lie, but the truth was once again hidden behind more truth. Lies aren’t everything these days. While she might have caught on to what I was doing, the Crystal Knight… is about as dense as granite. He may not like games… but he would be surprised at the information subtlety can get… Hells of a lot more than his damned blade got… This is what I get for dancing the lines between the ‘goodly folk’ and the bastards.

There were at least two… safe bet that they were all Bhaalists. Which leads to more confusion and threads… That day in that gods forsaken village in the mountains… the massacre… That was Bhaalist work too. So, I know Lightning has been shot at, whether that is Anders’ work or the Bhaalists, I can’t really say. Assuming it is not Anders… Her, Me, Bumble Bee, and the one named Aranath… that’s four. All involved in the thing on the mountains. Aranath lost his symbol for a bit too. So, the number five… a name maybe? The number of victims? I am missing one. I need to find everyone who was involved in that mess on the mountain.

I have a feeling we are being picked off… Dead to prove a point… alive again to play the game a little longer. I need to get the others together. Need to warn them and pass on my suspicions, maybe we can figure out how to keep a step ahead. For now, we all need to be very careful.

Why take the spoons though? I mean they are sentimental. Fecking Anders, but still… Eleven Silver spoons… wonder if it would have been something else if I hadn’t left most of my stuff either at the temple or in my room. Why give back his holy symbol… and keep the spoons? I checked both rooms. Lifted the key to room five at least before he killed her… ‘Bart’… yeah his room was as empty and vacant as hers. Like neither of them had ever even used it. Which wouldn’t surprise me at all. Classic trick really… need a good reason to be there, to hide the bad one.

I have a feeling it isn’t the last we will hear from them. I doubt it is the only time I will end up with a blade in my back either. It’s never that easy. I have more theories, but without more threads, no way I am going to tie this all into a neat braid. And to think… that was the -end- of the day…

Started out with a nice chat with Platinum. You know, for a noble… he isn’t a pile of rot, and for a goodly sort… he at least understands more than most. Too bad he’s married. His daughters are lucky though. A father like that? No going wrong. None of this ‘I’m better than you’ rot. He treats me like a person with a brain. I’m not some pretty face, and he’s never looked at me as a harlot. He’s good with the pep talks. Even if this time around he pretty much confirmed what I already knew.

Does no good to run. To get at Anders, I am going to have to force his hand… without letting him see the strings tugging the puppet along. He reminded me that I know this dance, and know it well. Maybe a bit out of practice… but not only do I know the dance… I’m the one setting the tempo, I’m the lead of the dance -and- the music. This is already mine, I just have to see it through to the end of the song and not get my toes stepped on.

It isn’t going to be easy, or simple, and while I lack some of the more ‘traditional’ resources in a game like this… I have something he doesn’t even know exists. Friends. Like Platinum said, connections that are pretty solid. All those years of seeing them as exploitable weaknesses… and never seeing the full potential. I have to be careful though. Don’t want them hurt. I don’t want to use them just because I can. I’m not like that anymore. Something better. Just like I promised. Something better… Something no man can ever cage again.

It was this resolve that had me making my way south smiling and looking forward to perch myself in plain sight. After all, the cat isn’t likely to come out of hiding unless he spies the sparrow… Instead of finding trouble, it found me… Well, round about at least. I came across Bumble Bee and some of the others. She’d been attacked. Didn’t look hurt so much as rattled.

It was this fact, and some new found protective streak… I mean to keep these precious friends of mine whole. Alive and well. Aside from that, Bumble Bee had an extra one o look out for… And I meant to help. So I carried her over within eye sight and shouting distance of the guards. No sense in fleeing if we didn’t have to. Besides fresh air is good for her sort of health… issues… right? Hells… I know one thing. I am -never- getting in her shoes… not after watching her eat a sugar cookie and pickle sandwich… topped with sour cream. Ugh…

So we were sitting there. It was busy around the little campfire, but most of the bench seats were empty. I stood behind her, leaving the bench around her empty. Just in case her stomach got upset again. Didn’t expect an idiot with a mask on to come sit -right- next to her. I mean he was practically in her lap. He could have sat on the other end of the bench and I would have not wondered so much. I worried though when she said she never saw him before.

I asked him nicely to scoot over or at least bloody introduce himself. I mean she’s with-child and had just been attacked not even an hour prior. So forgive me for being a bit jumpy. Rather than introduce himself and make polite conversation, or at the very least scoot over and give the poor girl some space, he chose to get mouthy. To the point that he got a good knock in the back of the head for his smart mouth. Then things got more interesting. He ended up out cold on the floor, which my lovely singing voice may or may not have been involved in. It was a pleasant lullaby. I mean I could have killed him, drawn blood and all that messy stuff…

But then of course, I’d be in trouble for murder, Bumble Bee or someone might have gotten hurt. At least I didn’t sing the song that makes their ear drums break? I did promise Platinum I would behave… figured keeping a pregnant elf safe was behaving well enough. Unfortunately when Prissy Missy tried to move him away from Bumble Bee so he could sleep it off… some other twit had to go and get pushy. Then the Fist got involved. Ended up finding a new spot for everyone to enjoy the fresh air.

Which we did for nearly an hour or two. I played a few songs, we chatted… Bumble Bee threw up… It was a lovely evening until I got that sensation that I was being watched… and not the flattering sort of attention either. Was willing to write it off when the Fist showed up to fine me a hundred coins for knocking the rotter from earlier in the back of the head. Best hundred coins I ever spent. Of course there was a bit of commotion because the idiot hadn’t yet learned to shut his mouth. Didn’t help that everyone was insisting on arguing with him and with the guards.

Still eventually the dust settled… but that creepy feeling remained… So I opted to buy Bumble Bee something to put back in her stomach that she had so thoroughly emptied. So we headed off to the inn, and things were quiet for a bit. She was eating her… breakfast. Prissy Missy took the Crystal Knight up for a chat. I was content for the moment that we had sought safer ground.

This was of course until Tulip and Bart showed up. It was an odd sensation. Something familiar and yet forgotten. Something I should have recognized, but didn’t until it was too late. After all, it wasn’t much different than what we used to do to keep Cale and Anders happy… Missed the forest for the trees… and managed to miss the shadows between too… Right up until I found my self being dragged from the dead to lick the wounds to my pride. Fool me once… shame on you… Fool me twice… They won’t have the chance. I’ll be watching. So we are at last back to the beginning of the tale I have told you, sis… which is actually more like the beginning. I am sure this is only one part of many. There is more yet to unravel and braid together… More left unwritten…
~~

[ENTRY FIFTY-EIGHT]

How can poets call something so utterly destructive beautiful? I’ve read sonnets, Elven poetry that speaks of love as the most beautiful flower the gods set on Toril… I wonder what they see in it. I’ve seen it, and I see a bitter wound that barely heals, a cancerous thing that eats away the souls of any, a gilded cage of its own sort… With barbed wires and unbreakable locks. I’ve watched others sit caged by love, singing beautiful melodies as their souls burn from the inside out in a fire more destructive than any I have ever wrought.

I see them, happy in their cages, and wonder if they are merely fooling themselves into believing in a dream, or if they have already died on the inside. What causes someone to so recklessly throw the world to the wind for one heart. Blind to the possible betrayal… blind to the weapon they place so willingly into the hands of the enemy… In a time where there are more than enough enemies… I cringe to think of what might come.

I watched her… All the dance left her, poor Deva Queen… I barely recognized her after he had been taken. Her Handsome Shadow… Beloved cage. It dragged her to near madness. She wasn’t resting, wasn’t eating… Her thoughts were consumed with his loss, her every move. What makes it all the more dangerous is she either can’t or won’t see it for what it might be, which gives her enemies that much more sway. It makes her that much more blind to it.

And who am I to crusade for love? Hardly Love’s champion. Yet, I offered her my help. Why? Gray is right. I’ve gone soft. I’m not who he remembers… and I sure in the hells am not who I remember. Friendship, just another form of love. To a lesser extent. When did I stop keeping a list of tools and expendable people, and start keeping a list of people I like to keep around. A list of people I am unwilling to risk? Loyalty is precious sure… but it leads to mistakes. It leads to regrets.

I saw your face, sis… Did you regret your suffering? Have I failed your memory in the days since I left Waterdeep at a dead run? It was unbearable to lose you. The weeks after, I was a shell. Anders killed you, and some part of me died. I thought it was hope that died. Thought when I killed Cale that all was left was anger… and now I am not so sure… I don’t know what to think anymore. I know I liked the brief respite without bars and chains. I enjoy being something better. A credit to the hope you placed in me. Like always… I get so close to being there, sis… So close to that true freedom you want for me… Just before the door gets slammed in my face.

Now I wonder if I didn’t slam it in my own face. I’d like to blame Anders’ worthless hide this time… but I am afraid this one is all on me. Maybe not afraid… Maybe if I was the one that closed the door… I can be the one to open it. Just need to find the key. We’ll see if I live to regret it or die content with it… But at this point there is no turning back and no time for second guesses. I just need to be careful. Anders isn’t my only worry.

I had agreed to go along, just to make sure Deva Queen didn’t do anything overly stupid in the name of all important love. We waltzed on shifting sand through a place that may well have been worse than Waterdeep. There were too many to keep track of and keep control of. Numbers, in any normal situation is an advantage… this wasn’t normal. Too many to try to keep alive, and no bloody healers for most of it. Rose was there, but this bloody bastard pulling strings had us split up and lost in no time.

They call him a demonologist… but I have never seen a man who dabbles in the Abyss yank on the Hells for amusement like that. Deva Queen didn’t lie when she said he was powerful. I stuck to the rear. Charged with protecting the mages. I hate wizards. It was like watching a piece of parchment try to stand up to a fire elemental every time the casters would rush forward into the melee. I stuck near the rear, mostly. Safe enough spot until the bastards start trying to double back on us from behind. Found myself glad I bought those healing tonics ahead of time. Better get some more later… and something for my bloody stomach. Bastard.

I have to say, I did my best to follow her orders and stay out of the way. Deva Queen was a mess. Not really reckless… but there was an urgency and impatience. I could see it in her eyes. She was scared to death of losing one of us… of losing him. I did what I always do in those sorts of scraps. Sarcasm serves well. Lightens the mood and keeps everyone from thinking about how close we are to kissing the Wall of the Faithless on our way through the Lord of Bones’ Realm.

It was a whirl of death and blood. You could smell it on the air mixed with sulfur and brimstone and the acrid oppression of these pocket planes. I could taste the blood… I wondered more than once if it was my own… at times the bloodied air seemed ancient. It seethed with hatred and pain manifest. This Demonologist’s hate for Elves was more than apparent. Just as apparent as Deva Queen’s urgent need to defy that hate and reclaim what he had taken. In the end, mostly whole… battered, bruised, exhausted, and blessedly distant from imminent death… Lion barely got us out of there with some sort of teleportation spell.

Everyone thought it a crowning success. In a way it was… but it seemed like we came back … well missing something. I couldn’t even place it then. Deva Queen seemed… hollow. Even her Shadow seemed… off. I thought maybe at first it was the ordeal. That they would be better with some rest. Tried to convince myself that was all it was, and managed so long as I didn’t look her in the eye.

Spent most of the next day trying to renew her spirit. She is so… listless. I didn’t really understand it then. The banter between the two of us was pleasant as always, despite the more serious undertones… to anyone else, seemed a light passing of jokes, but for the two of us, it was another sort of dance we share. One where we both know we aren’t fooling the other, the lies for show as much as the farce that we believe them… each for the sake of the other… for a friendship that has become precious. This was her show though, and I had resigned myself to the fact that she would be recovered when he was. I was content to be little more than support, the performer in me oddly content to take a silent role on stage… Until, of course… the rolls changes and the play was re-written.

She had gone to see to him, and in light of many Elves in need of rest… the fairy tale city of Doron Amar was hauntingly quiet. In a moment of morbid thought I wondered just how truly haunted it was. Those that went came back scarred… Some voices once heard often were no longer heard at all… others once familiar had been called traitor and given to Death. Others were innocent, blissfully unaware. Content that those more able could and would lead them from one shadowed moment to the next. People like Deva Queen and Her Shadow, the Teacher and Moonbeam…

I thought a walk would chase the morose from my thoughts. Unfortunately I had to run into every idiot on the Coast itching for a fight or an argument. For mortals, who are inherently fatally mortal… We thirst for the blood of our fellows more than any other creature to walk the lands or the planes. As you can see… I found no solace from my own thoughts. My mood was dark. We’d been dealing with Bhaalists and gods know what else. Anders had been disturbingly quiet… It had been a dance from one disaster and near death mishap to the other for more days than I cared to contemplate.

Words were no comfort either. I lived up to the ‘doom and gloom’ reputation that my poetic flair had won me. Scratched out little more than a few bloodied and shadowed lines before turning the page and leaving the words to haunt my heart in another moment. I found myself in the quiet of the spring that had bubbled forth near the Friendly Arm Inn. The starlight played hypnotically off the water that gurgled and churned in the small pool that the spring had formed. The music that found me was also dark… haunted by some foreboding I couldn’t place… Or perhaps it was the fear that I would soon be asked to surrender more than I was willing to give up. What would I sacrifice for that freedom I so wanted… Or would I… as I now thought… Sacrifice that freedom for the sake of something greater… or someone… Would I finally understand freedom or did I at all… Would I ever understand love… or had I already?

My melancholy was interrupted by a twig snapping under foot near by. I halted my drawing… which was unwillingly dark. A cage wrapped in chains weeping blood, holding a single, dying bird… Figurative, literal? Who could say. I’d not been paying attention as my hand moved across the parchment. The enchanted quill laying blood red ink on the page… and in the moment the sound reached my ears, even the thoughts behind it stilled. Breath held, I closed the book and listened. My first thought was Bhaalists… and the next was that Deva Queen had snuck away for some fresh air and what have you… But my call went unanswered.

I drew a slow breath and rest my hand on the hilt of my blade as the other hand tucked book and quill away. In a blink… only a blink… The world around me shifted. Heavy and dark like my thoughts, draped in shadows that seemed to give even the darkness pause. It was strange. As though the color melted away and with it the world on which I stood. In its place miles of graves, overhead the once familiar stars were mocking and menacing in light of a blood moon… I began to wonder if I had fallen asleep.

"Well hello, darlin'."

I turned face to face with Anders. That careless smile of his. The smile of a man who thinks he owns the world. At this point I was sure I was in some sort of nightmare. How many times have I drifted off to dream… only to wake screaming still fighting off the chains that my mind watched him place around me… how many times would my mind conjure him that we may fight… They say if you die in a dream… you wake in death… I always made it a point to wake before he landed the killing blow… spent hours convincing myself the nightmares had no place… if only because the bastard wishes more pain on me than a simple death could hold.

"Welcome home, my little Songbird."

He sat there, flipping that damned silver coin, the one with no sides. My whole being tensed… this was different. I wasn’t backed in a corner. All around me death stretched away from me in a yawning expanse of gray. An instinctive step back had me standing against a grave marker. The stone’s jagged edge against my calf as I drew my blade. I glanced down to the marker, and then to a voice behind me…

"Now, now, darlin'. You wouldn't want to do anything rash."

“Rash?!”

I blinked at the mirror image of Anders behind me… and the one who now leered in front of me. A voice to the left…

"Definitely not."

He grinned, soundly confident that I was off balance at this point. I struggled to rationalize the change of the dream… to wake from the sleep I didn’t remember falling into.

“Right... what the Hells is going on?”

And as though on cue… a voice to the right.

"Oh darlin', just put that blade away before your hurt yourself."

I moved subtly to keep all four of the Anders that stood around me in view. The landscape oddly silent as they sneer and grinned at me… though identical, each toying with the same coin… their expressions were varied faintly. All familiar. That voice reaching my ears like silk bathed in acid… My own heartbeat nearly drowning it out. At least in the other nightmares I had a wall to protect my back… and only one phantom to fight… Why did I need to fight at all? Silently I urged myself to wake. Finally I managed to speak…

“Like Hells.”

His answer laced with his insidious promises as always… that undercurrent of lust and hate he was never good at hiding when there wasn't coin on the table.

"Why would we want to hurt you? You have such...talents."

One spoke… another chortled in amusement… the two on either side remained silent for the moment. A grin and a smile, the only thing the same among their faces was the glint in their eyes… and I chose not to focus on the fact that it would take hours of scalding water and scrubbing to feel I had washed his gaze off my skin… again. Instead, I worked my unease into anger… When all else failed me, anger served well enough.

“Pike off! Better yet... crawl on the pike yourself. Saves me the trouble.”

He sighed… the one in front of me. His counterparts remaining silent and still. I wondered why I once again argued with my nightmares…

“A message for your friends, Songbird.”

“Not a bloody songbird either.”

Something subtle changed… they each spoke in turn… slowly I realized that I was hardly dreaming. Fear struggled to claw to the bubbling surface of my anger as slowly I understood that I would either walk from this because I was meant to deliver a message, or die with the warning unspoken.

"Their"
"taint"
"will be"
"purged."

My eyes followed each, they spoke as one, each in turn. The gradual realization settled on me. It was either no normal nightmare, or it wasn't one of my own mind's making. I struggled for some sort of footing. Fell to words for they had seldom failed me.

“The Elves? Good luck with that.”

Now the circle of words reversed.

"You let them know that I planned on them rescuing their leader."
"Everything continue by my design."

“Of course you did, that is what they all say.”

"All of it."
"No, really."

I turned as the one that was now behind me spoke.

"Time is on my side."

“Time is on no one's side.”

They continued to speak in turn as though I hadn’t spoken at all. My eyes followed each.

"When I break the wards of their settlement, it will be over quickly."
"Too quickly."
"I may get bored."

“Aww wouldn't want to spoil the fun then… Best leave the wards in tact.”

I itched to drive the blade into at least one of them, for my own inner satisfaction… but logic whispered through the whirl of anger.

"Darlin', that tongue of yours was only ever good for one thing. Stick to it."

“Pike -off- and get the hells out of my head.”

They took turns chuckling. The one in front of me sighed and spoke.

"My little Songbird. You'll be back in my cage in no time."

“For the record, I will be in no one's Cage... least of all yours.”

“Wench!”

The first spat at me. For a moment I found it difficult to follow the circle of Anders as they spoke. A brilliant and nearly blinding flash of pain worked through my whole body. The effect was dizzying as they continued to taunt. It took nearly more effort than I had to remain on my feet.

"You will."
"Forever."
"All time."

“Back to compliments hmm?”

My first statement lacked the steady voice I wanted it to have. It betrayed the wracking pain as I struggled to level my breathing and my thoughts. I regained my balance and glared at them.

“Never.”

"Oh really?"
"Find your own way out then."

The left and right spoke as the one behind me crossed his arms and sneered. I glared at the one in front of me.

“Ha. As if you were going to just show me to the front door.”

The one to my right pulled out a small stone as the one to my left spoke.

“Recognize it?”

“Maybe.”

I answered carefully. Finally I understood that I wasn’t dreaming… and it wasn’t just some arse toying with my nightmares, but instead I was in another one of the Bastard Demonologists pockets… The one behind me spoke next.

"Same one you lot 'lost'."

Then the one opposite the one holding the stone chimed in.

"I took it back."

At least it wasn’t one of Anders’ tricks…

"My planes, my rules."

Said the one in front of me. The one holding the stone sneered at me as I spoke.

“I never was one for the rules much.”

"I got something much better in return."
"I hope you aren't too attached to those elves."
"As they wither."
"And die."

As the last one spoke… there was a flash. The color and sound came rushing back to me, I was still dizzy and reeling. As the last of the pain finally faded, it left in its wake a lingering sensation of illness. I felt… off… less than whole, and considerably weakened. Anger and bravado faded quickly into confusion as I felt my body drag me down, the distant sensation of having weights tied to my wrists and ankles as I drowned… fleeting… it passed… but the weight remained. I felt sluggish.

I became dimly aware that I wasn’t even where I started. I stood, armed and amid questioning gazes from Gray and the paladin Aranath. At the campfire in front of the towering inn. Aranath asked if I did that… though what he was talking about, I could only guess at first. He said later that I just appeared in a flash of light. My mind struggled to rationalize all that had happened. I was acutely aware that how I felt now was no doubt how Deva Queen had felt since we got back from rescuing her Shadow…

I spoke with Gray a while… Oddly enough he offered advice, though more or less it was words I already knew. Helpful to hear them spoken, none the less. I evaded his questions about what actually was afoot, and decided that I would speak with Deva Queen just as soon as I had rested. I was exhausted… There was no way I would make it back to Doron Amar in the shape I was in. I’d need to see a priest… but even that would have to wait. I was so tired… and terrified to sleep. It was an irrational fear of course. What could my dreams possibly conjure that would be any worse than what reality had already presented me with over the years. I had nothing to fear from nightmares… Not in my sleep… it is the Nightmares that haunted my waking moments that frighten me the most… And somehow… I couldn’t shake the sense that it would get much worse before it got any better.

[ENTRY FIFTY-NINE]

The mortal life, the immortal soul, and all the struggle in between… Some macabre dance we each take part in, the Gods trading partners like a man changes harlots. Who are we but fleeting kisses passed in the blink of a night to them? Indeed, the only faithful lover in this masquerade is Death itself. A constant and patient companion. Phoenixes will always be reborn from the ash… but recently… Recently I waltzed with my lover, and when the song ended we parted ways. I did not walk away unscathed. A parting kiss laced with hate for my defiance and the bittersweet promise that we would dance once again. Even a Phoenix must pass by this dark dancer between the cooling ash and the fanning of the flames.

I owe this revelation to another who dances with Death. Though the dance is different than my own, it is only fleeting. She is described as a powerful necromancer who walks with magic laced about her black robe and hooded figure. At first I wanted to send her to our mutual lover’s embrace, and then thought perhaps that was much like the wife handing over the mistress naked and with a bow atop her head. Seems I have become a jealous lover. Sending those who wish to dance with Death to his door seems far too easy. With the necromancer who thought to cage me, however brief it was compared to the time I have spent in one cage or another… Shall suffer the same hate as Anders, as Mother, as every man fool enough to think me his harlot and trinket.

Death’s embrace would be far too pleasing for any of them. Perhaps Vengeance is a useless ideal. After all, how do you demand a price for a transgression that bears none? A debt that is so vast that no amount of collection is going to settle it out. As pleasing as it might have been to watch Cale beg for the life I denied him… to be free of Mother’s Chains, the wizard Xinreal… someday perhaps Anders.

In the mean time, I must learn to suffer these cages, fleeting as they are… my skills with the locks of the figurative kind in the least… steadily improves. Still, for every cage I am set free from, another seeks to bind me. Most recently, I wandered the void between Death’s bed and the morning after that is Life in a cage that was unlike any other. Barren and dark, a void filled with nothing more than a sense of wrongness that haunts the moments when I close my eyes to sleep. Sleep too closely resembling the yawning chasm I walked from. When I stepped from it I had no memory of what came after I was presented a finger and travelled to see what lay behind closed doors until I am told, my freedom came in the form of a badger of sorts.

I’ve filled the void with bits and pieces of rumors, struggling to glean the truth from them, and drowning the ever present taste of sea water from my mouth with wine. In the wake of this lack of sleep my thoughts and mood have become erratic to the point that it bothers me. I hide the bitter anger that festers just beneath the surface under a carefully created mask of cheer. So far none have attempted to look beyond the surface.

Despite all of this, it has cemented friendships I was once afraid to hold close enough to heart that it would tear the tender bits of flesh if they were taken away after the fact. Part of me dreads the wounds that I have set myself up for… and part of me wonders if it would be a greater pain to wander alone in my fury. I doubt she understands the weight of the sapphire around her neck… that small trinket that carries an unspoken promise: To stand back to back against the Hells if asked, death and back, this sister at heart… Save a place for her, next to you, Seraphim… amid the stars, between the moonbeams… and watch over us both from your lofty perch.

All of this has accented the reality that we are little more than fleeting lovers to the insatiable gods. The Lady either despises me for twisting truth to her whims, or applauds me that I can even find her shadow amid carefully placed truth. The Unicorn Queen whispers revelries to my heart, and she is a fascinating lover. Slowly the song and dance of the wilder places is ever revealed to me, and like a wanton maiden I draw them in like precious gifts. These brief moments lend to my façade of joy, to the mask I now wear as close as skin… Sometimes, when the voices of the rains and wind join my melody, I hear you within and find some measure of true joy.

Perhaps that is why the dancing invigorates my spirit so… Even when joy will not spare me more than a passing glance, the lip service given gives birth to joy in others, and I will live off of this until I must once again return to the possessive lover Death, who will never let his mistress wander far…
~~

[ENTRY SIXTY]

War comes. A myriad of possibilities. I thought about leaving before things get bad, and I still might. After all, it is easy to disappear in a war. I thought about Anders and the threat he poses, what he is capable of… This lead to thoughts about you sis, then about the others… some of which have become staples as much as bread, and every other face I have grown to enjoy seeing in this sea of masks and names… and decided to stay. For now.

I wonder… when does Scarlett get laid to rest, Seraphim? When will Maeve step from her shadow? I’d said I left her dead and buried. Maybe she isn’t as gone as I thought… because sometimes… Sometimes I still catch Maeve’s soul lurking… I’m not Maeve anymore… and I am certainly not the Scarlett I set out to portray. A mask for my benefit and your memory. Somewhere along the way… each got lost in their own sort of war… and each burned to ashes past… What emerged is something different… maybe something better. I hardly recognize who I am anymore… The cynic in me argues that I have merely taken my mask and made it something more.

It isn’t the name that makes the person is it? The person makes the name… maybe? After all I have carried many names that have attempted to define ‘me’ and yet, none of these, past or present can encompass all there is to this phoenix risen. Instead each name, each mask is but a small part of the larger whole. In the creation of this enigmatic paradox, I have not only lost myself, but become myself… though the definition of each self has changed dramatically… they are one in the same.

Too many sleepless nights that I fill with as much lack of dreaming as I am able, and the glaring days that follow each wear on me. They wear in such a way that I worry for both the ruse and the reality that I have allowed myself to be. I have, as the poet, become what they wish me to be. I have, in my own fear, created my own cage. And at the same hand, in this endless duality that I exist in… I have become my own freedom born of a courage I didn’t know I possessed.

Time has cooled a fury that now is merely ash and ember. Though it could easily be reignited… I wonder if the raging inferno I had pictured will hold to the candle that I now see ahead. I still hate him with a passion. Him and everything he embodies. Not just Anders alone, but every sod just like him. But I wonder now, who I will be when the fires of vengeance have cooled?

I cannot go back to who I was. To do that is to go back to the scared child, or the harlot… I cannot remain the epitome of revenge, for there would be no purpose in it once Anders is gone… Do I allow my mask to shift yet more, becoming the names and faces I wear for the others… Do I take one mask for myself? And if I do… what shall I make of it. Indeed I have the distinct opportunity to create who I am, much in the way I already have… and I do enjoy the Scarlett I have become, she honors you. But is that enough?

So my thoughts turned to war… to the inevitable storm of blood and blade that will swallow those who are not careful and wander too close to the maw of the beast. Has this Phoenix existed to serve her purpose? Should I allow her to rest in the flame that will carry her onward… in this becoming yet another phoenix… another soul? Re-incarnated as the phoenix might be, always some part of the past remains. Some part of the past lingers to remind her where she has walked. Where she has run from… and what she may yet run too. A constant reminder of the fiery path she has chosen.

Is Anders a big enough threat to warrant the fanning of flames? If not Anders… the others… Friendship and loyalty, kindness… these things that were strange to me before I was taken under your wing, and absent since those wings were torn away. If I acknowledge them… truly allow them to exist as they do and continue… it can be akin to placing the dagger in the hand of an enemy who would destroy them just to see me suffer.

In another cruel twist of irony, it is neither my choice to make for them, nor is it my own choice I have made regardless of them. Indeed they have shaped my choices of late… and I have endangered them in allowing it. On the same hand, it is neither something I can change or would… not because I do not care that they might be drawn to harm… But simply because they are more of a strength than a weakness perhaps. It was foolish of me to let it get to this point. Too late to change it now…

So the real question is, do I remain, or do I walk away… into the flame and out of the ashes once more? Do I allow this to grow, and risk what may or may not come to pass? Is it me sparing them some sort of pain because of me? Or am I simply fooling myself, calling my fears some misguided want to protect them? It isn’t as if they need my protection, in truth it is Me who needs theirs. Is it selfish to remain? Why does that even bother me? In the past I would have left a trail of broken hearts in the name of selfishness and not given it so much as a sideways glance… Now, I am hardly certain I could.

War isn’t just an opportunity to run…? How am I going to stay a step ahead and lead the dance if I cannot even choose the steps or the melody to guide them? How long can I keep hiding from who I want to become… How long before I can put much of who I was behind me? To do that I need to stop running long enough to face Anders and finish this once and for all. Anything that comes after that… can dance as it will, and as the flame in the wind… I would be inclined to follow.

Am I ready to? Can I truly? I don’t know… but I suppose there is only one way to be certain. Who am I? Who do I want to be? Why? What will I do once I have become that something better? When the promise that has driven me for so long is at last fulfilled… what then? I’ve never planned that far ahead, mostly because I never thought I would get that far… Now? Now there is some small part of me willing to hope I can… some part of me that wants to… and call it curiosity or what have you, the only way to get to the end of the story… is to keep reading. Be that end “Happily Ever After” or “To Be Continued” or even simply any ending… Death too, is an end.

Here is my greatest secret to the stars, Seraphim… I’m scared to death of happy ever after… mostly because I have no idea what I would do with such a thing. I’m no fairy tale princess waiting on prince charming… Just a girl hoping to live a proper life… not a harlot for the world to wipe its boots on. What does the rest of the world do with Happy Ever After? Families? Prosperous businesses? Must it always end in some romantic daydream, or is it enough just to exist as I choose? Is that Happy Ever After enough… Is that the something better you wanted for me? If it is… then I am already halfway there.

It would be easier if you were here and I didn’t have to keep guessing… I suppose though, I need to stop letting the world fill my pages and write my own… It isn’t my war… but it is my life, and I am in too far over my head now to just walk away. It isn’t the kind of drowning that we joke about. This isn’t about love… not the romantic sort anyway. I care about these people. It isn’t my war, and while it might have been an exit once upon a time… That was a door in a story from a land far far away… War is coming… I just hope we all walk away from it. The evil step queen always looses anyway, right? Maybe this will have a happy ending too… we just need to get through the dark forest first.
~~