Damn them! Useless pigs! self serving vicious mockeries of civil men! Fiends, all of them, with horned heads so far up their— AGH! Damn them to whatever underworld they wish but damn them all! I will see their ancestor’s graves drowned in the blood that they have wrought. I don’t want to think of what I would do if I got my hands on one of their inquisitors, but I know that they would not walk away from it.
I have been complacent. I thought that if I just kept trying to help my neighbors with the little things, healing their ill, caring for their children, the like. I thought that maybe that would be enough and I could leave the nobles to their petty games. I was obviously mistaken. I won’t pretend to understand the machinations of a human court. Or any court really. But it is painfully obvious that the Gatepass government is seasoned with one part corruption to two parts ineptitude.
I know first hand that my aunt is powerful. I understand that she is one of the strongest spellerists in the greater Gatepass area. I know that she can look after herself better than any of us. Or, she could, forty years ago. My aunt is aging. Her veins may pump the blood of the ancient folk, but she is old, and no doubt very tired of conflict. She is my only family and I just want her home safe. I just want a home to come back to.
I know that I can come off as extreme, and that’s not something I am ashamed of. My brothers and sisters are bleeding in the streets, and blood will have blood. However, I also know that this sometimes can make me a difficult person to bear. I feel I should apologize for some of my words last night. I probably won’t. But I should.
Kathor Danava, Kathor. Why him? Why is he here? What is his purpose, his real purpose. What does he signify. Hopefully I will learn in time. I need a nap.
So here I am, back home at last. I wish I could say that I didn’t miss it, that the smoke and ash choking it’s way through my lungs, and blackening my hair, didn’t fill me with so much anger, and sadness, and, and fear. I was but a lad when it happened, but I can feel the heat on my skin with every step nearer my birthplace, I can hear my sister’s wailing, wailing, then silence. I can feel the oppressive, choking blackness, swallowing reason.
Maybe I’ll find where mother died. She probably lies in some mass grave, a twisted skeleton, scorched ebon. I, I can’t think about that. One foot in front of the other.
This Crystin girl, I need to learn more about her. She said she dreamed of me. I need to talk to her about it, I need to learn more. Maybe she knows more about the nature of my powers than even my aunt. Or maybe she’s just a girl, touched by some unseen force, swept up by some power neither of us could understand.