RP:The Diary of Belgemine Fleck

Summary: Lanara Banks returns to Lithrydel after an absence of a year, and on her journey home, she finds a diary that covers everything that had happened during her time in her homeland. The witch vows to complete her deceased friends bucket list and writes the final entry in the tome.

Lanara sits below deck, in the spacious dining area, the steady motion of the sea gently jostling the boat nearer to Lithrydel. The ship is set to reach the shoreline of Cenril in about four days, give or take a day, depending on the weather. The witch enjoys these rare moments of solitude, where she can focus on memories of the past and possibilities of the future, even if every time her memory runs wild it causes scalding tears to stream down her cheeks. Lanara cautiously runs her fingertips along the thick leather tome resting atop the table, knowing that it contains secrets of all that had happened during her year in Kelvar, as it was neatly documented by none other than the unique lady known as Belgemine Fleck. At some point, before fleeing Kelvar, the woman had shoved the book into Lana’s knapsack, and it had only been discovered this morning as the witch was scouring through her belongings in hopes of finding some more mint leaves to aide those aboard in defeating their seasickness. She is hesitant in opening the tome, because then the reality of what truly happened will consume her heavily scarred mind, and she had just started to accept all that had occurred. It feels strange to even hold the tome in her hands, as it seems unfamiliar without being in the hands of Belgemine, its rightful author and keeper. Lifting the cover, she glimpses at the beautiful handwriting, without really reading any of the words, before she slams it shut. Lana swallows hard and scoots her chair nearer to the table, as she draws the lantern closer, and gives a quick glance about the room. It’s dimly lit below deck, shadows lurk in the corners vying for some of the lantern’s golden glow, but as far as her gaze can see, the witch knows she is alone and that it will remain that way for the next few hours. Breakfast had ended a mere hour ago, and the crew wouldn’t meet again until dinner, and even though a few hungry stragglers around lunchtime are expected, the witch knows that none will disturb her on this day. Life may have been cruel, and love may have left her irreparably broken, but the one thing that had never failed Lanara was her intuition. A trembling hand opens the book and the witch spends the next few hours absorbing each damning word, with unshed tears in her eyes, a lump in her throat, and an emptiness in her heart.

The Twenty-Sixth of December

I’ve never had a reason to keep a Book of Shadows, unlike the others in Kelvar, because I don’t believe in a God or Goddess and I don’t possess any sort of magical powers. There really isn’t anything about me that’s remarkable, at least not in a positive sense, but this beautiful book was given to me as a gift and I feel obligated in putting it to good use. I’m not sure exactly what to write about, or if I should use this as a personal diary, or just tear out the pages and use the parchment to wipe my ass. It’s not that I’m ungrateful, or that I actually expect anyone to care enough to read what I’m writing, it’s just that I’m a loner and I’ve never really experienced anything all that fantastic or worthy of recording. My name is Belgemine Fleck, and that’s pretty much all I’m sure of, regarding my past. Some say I’m the result of a botched scientific experiment, a few say that my mother left me on the doorstep of an evil cultist leader who cursed me during infancy, and others say I simple appeared out of thin air. I have no recollection of a family, I’ve never made any friends, and I have zero memories from my youth. My age is unknown, as well, but I look to be in my early thirties. All I can remember is that I woke up one morning up in the healer’s tent, and a pretty nurse was tending to my injury. Someone had cut out my tongue and I had lost a lot of blood, but the nurse didn’t know anything aside from that, and it seemed as though I suffered some sort of amnesia as I failed to provide any details. After about a week of regaining my strength and learning how to eat and drink, I felt ready to explore the area a bit, and learn all there was to know about Kelvar. Aside from being in a land that remains in perpetual autumn and with a population consisting of ninety percent women, there wasn’t much more for me to learn. I cared little for politics, even less about faith, and the fog that surrounds the island refused to part for me, meaning that I’m not of Kelvarian blood. It’s obvious that I’m not kin to any of the ridiculously beautiful elves of the land, as I stand out like a sore thumb, with my stark white skin, alabaster hair, and pale pink eyes. I’m an albino, which is likely why I was given up by my birth parents, or given to a lab to study. I can’t even bring myself to look at my reflection, for surely my appearance is enough to give anyone a nightmare. Still, I feel that fate had brought me here for some reason, other than a missing tongue and a clouded memory. I’ve lived in Kelvar for nearly two years now, and I still haven’t found any clues from my past, which is rather odd. I guess one day I will have to learn to accept who and what I am, but that day is not today, for I only see myself as an ugly albino with a missing tongue.

The Thirtieth of December

There is so much excitement bubbling in the land today that I ventured closer to the others as they supped by the campfire, so I could overhear the latest rumors. I prefer seclusion, but I also like to keep myself educated, so I feigned a chill as I held my hands over the flickering flames. A few lowered their voices and one girl seemed to lose her appetite suddenly as she looked my way, but I didn’t pay them any mind. My gaze locked on the fair brunette, the one that they had appointed as Queen of Kelvar, as she approached the area and cleared her throat. Natianara smiled brilliantly and announced that her mother would be coming to Kelvar to rule at her side, and to try and rid Sharna of the terrible ailment that clung to her fading life. Everyone seems to speak at once now, and perhaps I would have joined in on the chitchat and asked questions about Natianara’s mother, but of course I couldn’t speak without a tongue. Still, I had excellent hearing, and I tried to pick up on a few keywords that would piece together a picture of the one that would be visiting. Lanara. Witch. Animal Empath. Crazy. Dancer. Murderer. Sister. Evil. Loving. Bitch. Gorgeous. Trouble. The terms went on and on for the next half hour or so, each one conflicting with another, as they painted a picture of a beautiful witch with some sort of bipolar psychiatric issues and a zest for healing animals. I grin, my first true smile since appearing in Kelvar, as it seems that Lanara and I are both social outcasts in this part of the world. It’s not fair for all of them to judge a woman that they have only seen on a handful of occasions, and I wish there was some way I could help to make these rumor mongers learn the truth. Suddenly, I am filled with hope, and I feel as though there is an invisible cord tethering me to the ground. Aside from negativity, I’ve rarely felt any other emotion… Yet, I’m clinging to the mere name of this witch, as a newborn child would cling to its mother’s bosom. I, Belgemine Fleck, have realized my purpose in this pitiful existence. I further vow to only use this book as a record of every move that Lanara makes, of every event that occurs upon and after her arrival, as I will be her silent stalker. I will personally get to the bottom of every rumor, and truly get to know this woman, so that every time her name is mentioned it’s only spoken of truthfully. No one should have to endure the dirty looks, mean whispers, and finger pointing, like I have sustained the past two years. As the others say… As I wish it, so mote it be!

The Fifth of January

Today, we all worked together to take down the decorations from Yule, and every which way I turned there were more and more tidbits of gossip about Lanara. I listened eagerly, absorbing each iota of information that I could, so that I could later record it in this book. I must know everything about my newest obsession, and it feels as though half of the residents of Kelvar love Lana, while the other half are filled with hatred or fear. One of the older women, Clara, was giving the priestess’ in training a trip down memory lane, and I took a seat on a log nearby. I was overdue for a little rest from climbing up and down ladders all day, taking down decorations and sprigs of mistletoe. Thankfully, Clara is a loudmouth and I didn’t have to strain my ears too much, as I gathered more clues to Lana’s past. Supposedly, Thronnel and Kuruni were secret lovers and they had two daughters, Persephone and Lanara. Their power was so great that Thronnel thought it best that the babies be separated, as he didn’t want either of them growing up to be more magical, more powerful, than their father. To this day, no one knows the whereabouts of Persephone, or if she even lives. After Thronnel fled the lands, Kuruni realized she was yet again pregnant, and so she quickly married a politician from a nearby village, so she could pretend that her new husband had fathered the child. Another daughter was born, and rather than separate them as Thronnel would have forced, she raised Talyara as though she were Lanara’s half-sister. The secret remained, the daughters grew up to be wonderful friends, at least until Lanara started to show her gift as a toddler. One day, she turned her grandfather into a squirrel, and as Kuruni went to give her a spanking, Lana pressed her palm to her cheek and used her powers to make her mother giggle! Before long, everyone knew that the little girl was an empath, and never before had they encountered someone this young with such advanced gifts. It was decided that Lanara would be sent to live at the Academy for Advanced Magic’s, a few hours north of Kelvar, and she would reside there until she was deemed ‘fit’ to rejoin society. Lanara was allowed to visit home on the high holidays and for a few weeks every summer, and she enjoyed frolicking in the forest with Taly, and making friends with wild animals. The toddler grew into a child, the child turned into a teenager, and finally, the teen aged to a young woman; all of those formative years were spent in isolation at the Academy where she was trained how to hone and master her unique skill set. There were rumors of various types of abuse that the students at the Academy had endured, and Lanara was a desirable target, mainly because of her beauty. One day, the young woman had matured into an adult, and she hatched a plan to murder one of the professor’s that had tried to take advantage of her in the back of his classroom. This wasn’t the first case of blood on Lanara’s hands, nor would it be the last, but she had good reasons for snuffing the life from that twisted teacher. Lana was finally free, and so she fled back to Kelvar, only to find it burnt to ashes, as the disgusting drow had attacked the lands and wreaked havoc. Kuruni’s head had rested atop a spike, their home had been ransacked and was reduced to crackling embers, and Talyara was nowhere to be seen. Lanara had left one hell, and had arrived in another and for over two years she searched near and far to locate her little sister. Every happy memory she had of Kelvar was replaced with anger and that’s what fueled the witch to find Taly as soon as possible, so that they could rebuild the land that they had always loved. Eventually, Lana traveled to Lithrydel and it’s in the wintry land of Frostmaw, that her little sister had built a life. The two had a beautiful reunion and decided to leave Kelvar behind, so that they could enjoy life for a bit, but promised to return one day. Life wasn’t always easy to the sister’s, as they faced their shares of hardships and heartaches, and there was even a brief period where the two didn’t speak. However, they always had each other’s back in times of strife, and rumor has it that their elemental magic is unrivaled. Lana is no longer able to wield her empathic abilities on people, but she perfected her powers on animals, many of which have become her favored familiars. Thronnel was in and out of the picture over the past few years, causing chaos, and gave both girls severe daddy issues. The bastard had a sick obsession with Lanara as she looks so closely like Kuruni, that he even wiped her memory at one point and carried on an incestuous affair. It’s his fault that Natianara was stolen from Lanara at birth, too! There were other horrible mentions of Lana and Taly’s time in Lithrydel, but I don’t feel comfortable describing those and my hands are growing tired from all this writing. To sum it up, Lana had a difficult past in Kelvar and in Lithrydel, and I fear that her future may not be so bright. Nat and Lana have never met in the flesh, and Sharna is practically on her deathbed, while this strange epidemic continues to sicken more people every day… Will things get better or will things get worse with her arrival?

The Ninth of January

Natianara informed us this afternoon that Lanara left the shore of Cenril and would be due in Kelvar in a few days, depending on the weather and the speed at which the ship is sailing. I’m giddy with anticipation and can hardly contain my excitement! It seems that no one can get Lana off of their minds, and the chatter is nonstop! One thing that I’ve learned is that Talyara and Lanara are opposites, which is strange considering how close they are, and the fact that they are biological sisters. I overheard Sharna speaking in a ragged breath to Natianara earlier, as I was helping to make some more milk of the poppy to help dim the pain of those infected. Sharna’s mind is still sharp as a tack, and she described Talyara as loving, carefree, and unbelievably sweet. Taly is touchy feely, and will pull someone in for a hug, even if they are a stranger! The younger witch is more likely to flee the scene at the first sign of an attack, or play the role of a healer. Trouble tends to find Taly, she’s somewhat accident prone, and she tends to misplace her trust and see the good in everyone. Sharna smirked when describing Lanara, mainly because since losing her empathy, the elder sibling tends to have a hair trigger temper and her emotions are often scattered and unpredictable. Lana looks for trouble, tends to be aloof with strangers, and she’s seriously racist towards drow and vampires. Despite her small stature, she will fight to the death, if necessary, and she has the mouth of a sailor if triggered. Lana keeps her circle of friends extremely small, she’s the type to hold a grudge, and she is fiercely protective of nature and animals. She’s dated a few men over the years, and one wouldn’t expect her to stay single for long with those looks and that body, but the witch finds it hard to trust or fully give her heart away. Lanara is playful and mischievous, whereas Talyara wouldn’t hurt a flea and rarely resorts to pulling a prank on others. I find myself comparing the characteristics of both women and I am starting to see why there is such a grand division amongst those that are fond of Lana and those that dislike Lana. The witch puts up a wall to keep others out, so that she doesn’t get hurt, and people tend to repel what they don’t understand. I’ve found that those that are the hardest to love, are often the ones to cherish, because once their trust is gained, the bond is unbreakable and unlike any other relationship you’ve experienced.

The Eleventh of January

Sharna’s condition is worsening and I fear her end is imminent, as I give her some more milk of the poppy. Everyone is in a somber mood this morning, as there are now six people in the healer’s tent, and no one has a clue how to treat this unknown ailment. Elve’s are immune to most diseases, and the symptoms are so varied, that even the best healers in Kelvar feel helpless. The first sign is a hacking cough, followed by chest pains, and eventually a high fever, as seen in all of the cases. A few cases have an evolved form, where the patient loses weight, has severe abdominal pain, and it’s coupled with frequent nosebleeds, bad migraines, vomiting, and diarrhea. We’ve begun to call it ‘Kelvaravirus’ as the nearby lands all remain symptom free, and it seems to only target our soil and the elves that reside upon it. Natianara hasn’t left Sharna’s bedside, and it looks as though I’m going to be spending the next few hours in here, so that I can keep administering medication as needed. So far, I haven’t developed any sort of symptoms, but being that I’m a human, I wonder if I’m immune. I don’t fear death, but this virus is pretty awful, and the end result is slow and agonizing, as the host is forced to suffer until their final moment. Natianara speaks in a whisper to her beloved aunt, stroking her fiery red hair, and asking a bunch of questions about Lanara, in hopes to keep Sharna awake. I know the milk of the poppy will kick in soon enough, so I sit a respectable distance away to afford them privacy, but also near enough that I can eavesdrop. The topic shifts to occupations and Sharna mentions that Lanara held a plethora of jobs over the years, some of which earn a gasp from Nat and a stifled giggle from myself. Lana was a tutor to Ansel’s boys, a farmhand for Xersom, a nanny to Emilia’s triplets, a bikini model for Kreekitaka’s boutique, a housekeeper for Desparrow, an exotic dancer for Hudson’s bachelor party, a dance professor at Schezerade University, a greenhouse tender for Callum, an officiate for Khitti and Brand’s wedding, a babysitter for Meri, an epic party planner for high holidays, and a keeper of an animal sanctuary. There are a few other positions that Lana held, but I mishear them as Sharna starts to slur her words and press her head against the pillow. From my own research, I know that Lana used to lead a guild of adventurous folks, and that she was heavily involved in some spiritual group. It’s strange that such a social butterfly keeps people an arm’s length away, and I wonder if it’s because she fears that if they knew the ‘real’ Lana that they would be disappointed?

The Twelfth of January

It’s very early in the morning, dawn is just about to break, and Sharna’s fever is higher than it’s ever been. She scalding to the touch, hallucinating, and she speaks of delusions between the ragged breathing and phlegm coated coughing. Natianara is beside herself, praying aloud to every God and Goddess that comes to mind, and I continue to measure the time between doses of milk of the poppy so that I don’t overdose Sharna, or worse, allow her to feel any pain. The poor woman has deteriorated so much in the last few hours, that I don’t think Lanara will make it here in time to say goodbye. I’m exhausted, honestly, and although I don’t believe in any higher powers, I hope that one hears this plea and allows Sharna to live another day.

The Thirteenth of January

Two patients have died, but miraculously, Sharna still lives, even though her condition hasn’t improved in days. I grow weary, not expecting anyone to discover a cure anytime soon, and I cannot remember the last time that I had slept for more than four hours. I showed two young women how to make milk of the poppy, and now there are three of us that take shifts looking over the sick. Some of the crone’s put their knitting to good use, and everyone has started to wear a mask that covers the nose and mouth, in hopes that it limits the amount of those infected. A few men are putting up another healer’s tent, as this one is stuffed to the hilt with ten sick beds, along with all the necessary medical supplies. Those that once mocked Lanara, and hoped she wouldn’t come to Kelvar, are now begging the Goddess that she comes as soon as possible. As if the woodland witch is their final hope, their beacon of light in this impenetrable darkness, and everyone waits on bated breath for her arrival.

The Fourteenth of January

Natianara received a letter this morning that Lanara should be here at some point tomorrow afternoon, and she reads it aloud to all that are gathered at the sick bay. Sharna weakly extends a hand and pulls Nat closer, so that she can share more details about the girl’s mother, and I listen in, as I often do. Sharna explains how not all witches are good or bad, that there isn’t a line between black and white, and that while Lanara has done a lot of good for the realm, she also created a great deal of chaos. Eventually, all witches that have learned well become High Priestesses and are practitioners of gray magic. They don’t deliberately cause harm, but they also don’t take any nonsense, and Lanara follows the code how she sees fit. Sharna then explains that Lana has lived in various places over the years, and that she had two failed engagements, but that she believes she will find a place to rest her heart, until the day she dies. I cannot help but wonder if Sharna had another one of her visions, and try as I may, I cannot hear the rest of her words, because Nat bent so that her aunt could whisper a message in her slightly tapered ear. The whispers continue back and forth for a few moments, before silence fills the air. Was it a message for Lanara? Was it some key point that I should include in this book? Why was Sharna randomly babbling about houses, heroism, and heartbreak? I’m miffed that I missed an important piece of information, but my annoyance fades to numbness when Nat begins to wail and cradles her aunt’s lifeless body in her arms. Sharna Banks had perished today, and Lanara is due to arrive tomorrow. Would she be the safety net that would create a cure and save Kelvar? Would Lana be unable to heal the sick and remain a pariah in her homeland? Or would she be another life that the Kelvaravirus would grasp?

The Fifteenth of January

Early this morning the mists parted and a ship was spotted nearing our shore, and all at once, hell broke loose. The few men in the village began to pick fights with one another, each trying to show who was the toughest, in hopes of earning the favor of the lady aboard the boat. Would any score a date? Little girls were giggling and plucking flowers, racing about and getting in everyone’s way. Their excitement was palpable, and the witch was notorious for adoring all things to do with nature. Young ladies took turns braiding each other’s hair, and spent extra time before the mirror, making certain that they looked perfect. First impressions were all the rage, and they wanted to ‘fit in’ at any cost. Adult women resorted to gossiping amongst themselves, and a few offered up a silent prayer to the Goddess, harboring doubts that the arrival of Lanara would do much to better the spirits of the dying. The rumors that surrounded her name were of atrocious, and if she was their only hope, surely they were doomed! The elder’s made their way towards the docks, to greet the little girl that they only caught glimpses of a very long time ago, the daughter of the late high priestess, Kuruni. Had it been one hundred and sixty years since they had trapped the toddler and sent her to the academy? There was a hum of electricity in the air, and the sun shone over the forest, casting away all shadows as the ship finally set anchor. Being of such fair complexion, of course I couldn’t gossip in the clearing, pick flowers in the gardens, or even approach the docks. And I wouldn’t be caught dead tying knots in the young brat’s hair, nor would they ever attempt to touch my locks, as they thought albinism was contagious! Even the men feared the worst when they gazed upon me, a few had even confused me for a male, as I have a boyish figure! I preferred to be ignored by them, as I never felt an attraction to any man or woman in all my life. That left little for me to do, and so I sat beneath a tree, the only place where I could catch sight of the newcomer, as well as be afforded a layer of shade from the monstrous sun. Natianara sprints down the shore and skips over the dock, not even allowing Lanara a minute to rest her soles on the planks, as she pulls her mother in for a tight hug. The embrace doesn’t last long, as both women come to terms with the fact that they are meeting for the very first time, in the flesh. Mother and Daughter, estranged since the birthing, and I imagine they are both very emotional as they keep running their hands over their cheeks, likely collecting tears. They stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, and I feel a pang in my heart, as I know I will never have a daughter or meet my own mother. It’s a touching moment, and I find my gaze is naturally drawn to Lanara, the petite yet curvaceous form that sways from side to side, as she gleefully pulls her daughter in for another hug. The light of day falls on the witch, highlighting the softer strands of chestnut in her dark hair, shimmering over her head like a halo. Lana’s skin is the lightest shade of mocha, and from a distance it doesn’t look as though she has a single blemish to mar her flawless beauty. She would never perish in the desert; instead she would receive a lovely tan. The two women joined hands and Nat escorted Lana to the meeting hall, where they would likely share breakfast and get to know each other. I was eager to follow, but of course, my duties called me elsewhere. Another elf had died from the Kelvaravirus, and I had to sanitize the healer’s tent, as well as make preparations for Sharna’s funeral.

The Twentieth of January

After Sharna’s funeral we didn’t see much of Natianara, as the loss of the one that had played the role of her mother had been too great for her to handle. A few claimed they saw the girl wandering the woods in the middle of the night, mumbling to herself, pale as a ghost. Others spread stories of how they had walked in to speak with the Queen of Kelvar, only for her to be whispering to a blank wall, as though she had an invisible friend. I entered Natianara’s quarters this morning, to change her bedding and sage the area, as we have been doing daily since the arrival of the virus. Natianara looked disheveled, as her nightgown was tattered and bunched around her waist, and her long hair was pointing every which way. I would have assumed she had been with a lover, but I knew better, as Nat remained chaste and innocent and never seemed interested in any of the men in our land. However, she did fondly speak of Kyori, some heroic male from Lithrydel, from time to time. I stood in the doorway and locked eyes with Nat, my arms full of fresh linens, and rather than receive a morning ‘Merry Meet’ I received a look of pure disgust. I was used to harsh looks and words, but Natianara was quite possibly the sweetest individual that I had ever met, so I was taken aback. She rose from the bed, stormed over towards me, and tore the pillowcases and blankets from my grasp. Thinking she meant to help me, I moved towards the bed to strip it of yesterday’s linens, when Nat roughly grabbed me by the arm and pushed me out of the room. I tripped over a vial of what looked like blood, and when I stared at it for a second too long, I received a hard slap across the face. My right cheek instantly turned red, and tears stung my eyes from the harsh treatment and the pain from the collision of hand and tender flesh. Instinctively, I lifted my hand to cup my cheek, and I slowly backed away from the room, only to bump into someone standing behind me. Before I even turned around, I knew that it was none other than Lanara Banks, and never in a million years did I think she would come to my rescue. I don’t know if she saw the whole thing happen, but she mutter something in Sylvan, and some unseen force had lifted Natianara from the floor and hurled her onto the mattress, before slamming the door. It was the first time anyone had ever stuck up for me, and also the first time I was left breathless by merely looking into someone’s eyes. Lanara’s hues are chocolate depths of desire, with a blend of intimidation and wisdom, and I yearned to swim in that dark pool for all of eternity. The witch is hands down the prettiest elf in Kelvar, and quite possibly the universe, and even if I had a tongue, I would still have been left speechless in such a close proximity. “Beatrice, right? I’m sorry… Nat hasn’t really been herself since Sharna’s death, and I’m sure she didn’t mean to lash out! I didn’t even know that Sharna had fallen ill, to be honest… Nat’s letter said that she, herself, was sick and asked me to oversee the care of Kelvar, but I suppose she was emotional over Sharna and didn’t realize the slip up in her words… I’m relieved that my daughter is well, but I wish I had known that things were that bad around here, because I would have come much sooner.” The words hang in the air, as the witch basically calls Natianara a liar and claims she may have been able to save Sharna’s life. Softly, she continues, “I will change the bedding and sage this room today, okay?” She had gotten my name wrong, but I didn’t care, she could call me anything she wanted. I responded with a faint smile, and she curved her lush lips in a similar fashion, yet again leaving me breathless. Lifting her hand to my cheek, Lana leaned in to inspect the mark left by her daughter’s palm, and a cooling sensation caressed the area as she muttered an icy incantation. “There. All better! Be seeing you, Becca.” I stood there like a fool for several moments after Lana slipped into Nat’s room, not because I was slapped silly or because someone had gotten my name wrong twice now, but because no one has ever showed me so much kindness in all of my life. It may have seemed like a simple task for Lana, but it meant the world to me, especially when she didn’t shrink from touching my stark white flesh or scold me for being unable to speak. Lanara Banks is a magnificent woman, a powerful witch, an unbiased heroine, and the first and only being that has ever left me captivated.

The Ninth of February

The past few weeks have flown by, as more people had gotten sick, a few more have died, and none have managed to recover. It’s a slow and painful death for most, but some seem to die within a day or two of contracting the virus. We have started to socially distance ourselves from one another, a span of six feet or more, and we have nearly run out of our stock of aprons, gloves, and masks, for tending to those that are ill. Lanara has spent most of her time writing letters to those in faraway lands, begging for more supplies, as well as advice on how to best counteract the effects of the virus. I spend most of my days in the healer’s tent, trying to at least manage the symptoms of the sick, and keeping those that will soon depart, comfortable. Natianara rarely shows her face, but her strange behavior continues, and some claim that she has been driven mad, much like her late father. I overheard Lanara speaking to one of the Elder’s, and apparently Desparrow had been consumed with the need to kill others, and he was a crazy scientist. After being captured and tortured for many months, he either fled Lithrydel, or met an untimely death. Nothing more is known of the lycan, but from the worried looks that Lana gives Nat, I have the sinking suspicion that madness runs in the family.

The Fourteenth of February

In Lithrydel, today would be Sweetheart’s Day, and so Lanara had put together a small party for those of us that hadn’t yet fell prey to the virus. Everyone wore shades of red or pink, a few of those with musical talents played slow songs, and there was enough food and drink to cater to a small army. As the night drew to an end, we all gathered around the fire, and tales of romance were shared. I noticed that Lana had unshed tears in her eyes as she sipped on her fourth glass of wine, and I wondered why she was so melancholy. One of the little girls, Delphine, plopped onto her lap and curiously asked, “Miss Lana… Do you have a boyfriend? Were you ever in love?” The witch giggled, unable to dodge the eight year olds inquiry, “I had a boyfriend, but I had to end things to come here, because it wouldn’t be fair for him to put his heart on hold.” She paused, as a single tear trickled down her cheek, and I could sense that it had been a painful decision, and that she missed this man, immensely. “His name is Tiber, and he’s a handsome lycan, from Catal.” A few more questions were asked, about past lovers and two failed engagements, but Lana didn’t bother to answer. She just stared into the fire and watched the flames dance, only to be broken from her trance when Natianara graced us with her presence. Delphine scrambles from Lana’s lap, her big eyes glued to Nat, and I wondered why the child is so scared. Had she been slapped, too?! Nat sat on the log at Lana’s side, taking hold of her hand, as she spoke loud and clear, “My Mother… Although you have dated a few men and been engaged before, you have only truly given your heart to two… Auntie Sharna’s last words to me weren’t directed at me, or the future of Kelvar. They were for you! She said that you and Aunt Taly were both blessed by being born beneath a pattern of stars that were shaped into a heart.” Nat paused as Lana dabbed at her tear stained cheeks and listened closely, “That means you each will have only three great loves in your lives, and the third is your soul mate. Aunt Talyara is with her soul mate now, Krice, I believe is his name. But, Auntie Sharna, she said that your situation is complicated… You are meant to be with the one you left behind in Lithrydel, just before coming here, and that you will be with him again. Until the day you die.” Everyone’s gaze steadied on Lanara, as she bursts into tears and sobbed uncontrollably, as we witnessed firsthand her heart breaking beyond repair. This Tiber fellow must be something special, to have been specifically created by the Goddess, as the one meant to be with Lanara, until the end of days. I never put much thought into soul mates, and even though I loathed the thought of Tiberius Lowell having a hold on my crush’s heart, I sent a silent plea to the universe. They belonged to each other, and they deserved a happy ending.

The Twenty-Third of February

Everyone is on high alert today, as Lanara and Natianara had their first mother-daughter feud. I heard their raised voices, glass breaking, and doors slamming shut, back and forth, for several hours. The fight then moved outdoors, and sadly, all of Kelvar overheard the desperation in their voices. Nat accused Lana of not being ‘witch enough’ to cure the villagers of the Kelvaravirus, and Lana accused Nat of having let things get this far, as the death toll is staggering. At one point, Natianara glared at the crowd of those gathered, and asked them to choose which one of them was meant to lead. Despite the fact that half of Kelvar feared or disliked Lanara, before she returned to the lands, it seemed as though their opinions had changed and everyone had fallen in love with the witch. She had a winning personality, a great sense of humor, and she did nothing to cause the change, she merely had shown her true self. Nat didn’t like how no one spoke up, and feeling as though we all preferred her mother, she had stormed off into the woods. Lana looked bereft, as she had been so hopeful of reuniting with her daughter, and it seemed that had butt heads at every turn. After a few moments of awkwardness, Lanara stated that she would be sending out letters to scientists and non-magical healers, all over the realm. It would be our last hope.

The Sixth of March

More than half of our population rests in the healer’s tent, or in the small hut that was our designated morgue area. The stench of death permeates the air, and morale is at an all time low. Even the faith of Queen Natianara seems shaken, as she hasn’t left her quarters in days, not even to dine or check on matters. Lanara devotes her mornings to sending letters and restocking supplies, her afternoons to lifting the fog and welcoming healers and chemists, and her evenings to tending to the gravely sick. She has lost a considerable amount of weight, there are circles beneath her eyes from lack of sleep, and she pours her heart into keeping the faith and crying out to the moon each night for guidance. It’s obvious to all of us that she’s sustained a broken heart from the death of her aunt, the rejection of her daughter, and the parting of her boyfriend. I never thought about it until now, but Natianara, Lanara, and Sharna, played the perfect equals of the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone. Perhaps, with the crone having passed, the other two roles are unable to exist? I know very little about the craft, but it’s as clear as day to me, that the downfall of Kelvar is rapidly approaching. It’s not fair that the weight of this burden all rests upon the shoulders of Lanara.

The Eleventh of March

Kelvar has a population of about two hundred now, with all the healers, students, and scientists that have come to help our land. Lanara spent the past week planning an elaborate party, to recognize the efforts of those that had answered her call, and to help boost morale of the residents. I hardly think this is the best time for dancing and dining, and I hope it doesn’t spread the disease. I keep reminding myself to have faith in Lana, as she hasn’t aged to one hundred and eighty-three years old only for her life to end in failure. I don’t know how she convinced all of these people to put their lives on pause and flee to Kelvar, but it’s obvious she holds some serious rank all over the realm. Did she threaten them with a hex? Or were they merely returning the favor, after she provided aide in the past? It’s possibly she merely beckoned them with a snap of her fingers, much like she had earlier, when she called me to her quarters. Lana answered the door, all giddy for tonight’s festivities, and she insisted that I help zip her dress and pin her hair in all the right places. The witch wears an elegant off-the-shoulder gown, a shade of cream that matches perfectly against her slightly tanned skin, and she completes the look with a tiara of pale pink roses and white carnations. I wish I had a tongue, because I would have told her that she looked beautiful. I thought my work was done and was preparing to leave, when Lana grabbed me by the wrist and instructed me to sit in the chair she had previously occupied. Confused, I did as she bid, and was shocked when she began to do my makeup and expertly braid my hair. The witch is a chatty little thing, often babbling whenever she’s nervous or excited about something, and I have to keep my lips still from smiling as she carries on, “My sister, Talyara, she loves attending fancy parties, but it’s often me that hosts them! Before every event, we would shop at the upscale boutiques or hire someone to make us the perfect dress, then we would meet up on the day of the party and help each other get ready! She adopted an albino abomination as her son, but I think he ran away into the mountains of Xalious. Bachias was always a tad feral! I miss her so much… I wish that she was here, but I wouldn’t want to put her in danger of getting the virus.” Lana paused as she dabs some rouge on my pale cheeks, before she smiled and leaned back, “You look stunning, Brenda!” Again, she had gotten my name wrong, but I think it’s a trait of hers, similar to Natianara. Regardless, I swallowed hard and peered into the mirror, not even recognizing the beauty that had nervously stared back at me. I had never worn makeup or done more than brush my limp locks, but Lanara is a miracle worker, and I inhale sharply before turning to pull the witch in for a hug. “Oof! You are welcome! But, you cannot go to the party dressed like that! Do you have anything formal to wear?” I shook my head as Lana led me over to her closet, “Pick whatever dress you like… Just be careful not to stain anything, because these are genuine Kreekitaka labels!” I have heard of the famed crustacean, but I’ve never seen any of his garments up close, and each piece looks as though they had stepped from a fairytale. I point to a halter-style navy gown with sparkles, which I think will fit my frame well, and without hesitation it’s torn from the hangars and Lanara rests it in my arms. “I have to go and make sure everything is all set for later, but you try that on. I’m sure it will really bring out the color of your eyes! If you don’t like it, feel free to snag another! See you later, Becca!” With a wink, the witch left me alone in her quarters to play dress up before the big party. I think I’m in love with Lanara Banks.

The Fourteenth of March

The party was wonderful and a night that I will never forget, as I feel as though I now truly belong in Kelvar. Everyone was in high spirits, as worries of the virus were forgotten for a single evening, and all that was on everyone’s mind was eating, drinking, and being merry. A few of the teenagers that nicknamed me ‘Freak’ had taught me some dance moves, and I had even managed to get a little tipsy from drinking too much spiked punch. I counted seven men that had approached Lanara and asked her for a dance, but she had declined every offer. It’s as though no other male exists, aside from Tiberius Lowell. At the end of the night, I was helping the others to clean up, when I overheard Lana speaking to one of the researchers, a man named, Leopold Ambers. It seemed as though the witch was bored from listening to his tales of grandeur, but as he mentioned he had a brother from Catal, her interest was suddenly piqued. Leopold thought he was impressing the witch as he openly admitted that his brother had experimented on orphans, turning their genetic makeup into a twisted creation of his design. Lycanthropy was the field he ended up perfecting, and he forced each of his ‘adopted’ subjects into vile beasts. At present, he’s rumored to be living in Lithrydel, in the city of Venturil. The sick bastard offered that he would be happy to reach out to his brother, and perhaps turning the elves into wolves was the answer in ridding the body of the virus! I finished cleaning off the table and glared at Leopold as he suavely draped his arm about Lanara’s shoulders, pulling her closer to his side. Lana did nothing to push him away, instead she whispered something in his ear, and gave him a seductive smile. Moments later, the male practically skipped to his private quarters, and the witch locked her gaze on mine, “Belle… Would you like to help me with something?” I would have done anything for Lanara, and I proved it, as I assisted in helping her murder Leopold Ambers. I don’t know why he had to die, but she insisted, and I was happy to oblige. After slipping into some skimpy lingerie, Lana had snuck into Leopold’s quarters, and quickly shed her robe. As fast as the silk fell to her feet, I knocked on the door, holding a tray with glasses and a bottle of Kelvar’s finest wine. “Perfect! Thank you!” Lanara purred in approval, before slamming the door in my face, and pouring them each a glass. The bottle was opened before Leopold, so of course he wasn’t suspicious, but it wasn’t the wine he had to fear. It was the glass on the left side of the tray, which had been expertly soaked in a paralysis potion. The ice cubes, also, had some poisonous agents, of which three were plucked and tossed into his glass. The pair speak in whispers as they drink their wine, the male getting quite an eyeful of the brunette’s assets, before taking one more fateful sip. Lana’s voice rises slightly as the male leans in for a kiss, “I’m afraid I’ve changed my mind… The only lips that will ever touch mine belong to a male that was forced into lycanthropy, Tiberius Lowell. This is a gift to my beloved, a favor to the realm, and a preview of what awaits your brother back in Lithrydel.” I waited patiently outside the door, until I heard the thump against the floor, and then I helped the lingerie clad witch move the body all the way to the shore. Lana used the toe of her heel to kick Leopold into the water, “Thank you for your help…I appreciate your loyalty.” She pressed her painted lips to my forehead before retiring for the night, and I my cheeks continue to ache from smiling so much.

The Second of April

I was making my rounds this morning around the healing center, carefully coaching the younger girls in making milk of the poppy. Several of the patients were nearing their final throes of death, and their pain was indescribable. The virus chose its targets on a whim, and we had no idea how it continued to spread, as we took every precaution. It was random in its selection, and no one could make sense of how best to combat it, let alone discover a cure. I locked eyes with Luca, our sole male healer, and he pulled me to the side with worried expression, “Rosalyn wants the blessing of the Goddess before she passes to the Otherside… I know that only a High Priestess can perform the last rites, and seeing that Lanara has been tied up all morning in meetings with that shaman from Twister Island, I think its best that Natianara fill her shoes.” Luca leaned in and whispered in my ear, “She won’t know the difference.” I nodded in understanding, because Nat didn’t have any magical abilities, nor was she a High Priestess. Still, the women looked similar in appearance, especially when under the effects of powerful elixirs. I looked at Rosalyn, who was howling in pain and clutching her bloated abdomen, and I knew that I had to hurry. Luca quickly wrote a note and pressed it into my hand, before I made my way to Natianara’s quarters and gently knocked on the door. I heard a strange chanting coming from within the room and the floorboards were pulsing with the hum of energy being cast. I tried knocking again, harder this time, but no one opened the door and I wondered if the loud chanting was silencing my efforts. Left with little choice, I turned the knob and peeked inside, as a chill ran down my spine and a strangled gasp left my agape mouth. Natianara was writhing in the center of the room, a slaughtered goat at her feet, and not a stitch of clothing upon her body. The blood from the goat had been used to mark strange symbols around the floor and walls, and though I knew little of the arcane, I recognized a few that pertained to dark magic. Natianara, the young girl with guileless blue eyes, and a heart as pure as spring water, was a blood mage?! I inched back and prepared to exit this madness, when Nat turned around and angrily pointed a finger in my direction, “What’s the matter, Freak?! Cat got your tongue?! If you tell ANYONE about what you saw… I will remove more than your tongue! I knew I should have left you for dead in the forest, but of course Auntie Sharna had to come to your rescue! Just remember this, Freak… Witches are bitches, and snitches get stitches! Now, get out!” With a violent shove, Nat pushed me out of the room and slammed the door, locking it this time so there wouldn’t be any further interruptions. I was so shaken by what I saw that I fled to my room and remained in my room for the remainder of the day. I’ve had enough learning experiences today, to last me a lifetime; Rosalyn died without being led to the otherside in prayer, Natianara was the one responsible for cutting out my tongue, and there seemed to be no end to this virus.

The Eleventh of April

I kept to myself since learning the truth about Natianara, partly in fear that she would end my existence, but mostly because even knowing that I was in grave danger, I still knew the right course of action was to inform Lanara. If she looked at me with those unfathomable brown eyes, I would be undone and spill out every dirty little secret. I prayed every night that Lana would find out about her daughters evil deeds, or at the least, she would distance herself from being harmed. The closer they grew, the more danger the witch would be in, and the harder it would be to correct Natianara’s behavior. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it, because Nat was born without any magical abilities, or at least that’s what we were led to believe. It’s true that her mother is a witch and her father was a mage, so it’s possible that her abilities had laid dormant all these years, and had finally surfaced. She’s half lycan and half elf, so along with the magic; she’s a rather formidable opponent. The only thing working in our favor is that she’s inexperienced, so hopefully she hasn’t learned much in the art of defense. The cunning hybrid walked past me as I was tending to the herb garden and had the audacity to stick her tongue at me, as she briskly made her way to the shore. I glared at her departing form, wondering where she was off to, as I saw her lift her arms and step through the film of fog that had parted upon her command. I hope she never returns, because deep down, I know it’s her wickedness that brought harm to Kelvar.

The Nineteenth of April

Lanara has been a wreck the past few days, upon learning of Natianara’s departure from Kelvar, as no one knows where the girl is headed or when she will return. She called all of us to the meeting hall and stood before the long table, and I noticed that the witch was a hot mess. Lana’s long hair could use a good wash and brushing, the circles beneath her eyes were nearly as dark as her hair from lack of sleep, she had lost so much weight that her legendary derriere wasn’t as pronounced, and her once well manicured nails were bitten to the quick. I hoped that her deterioration was due to the fact that her daughter was missing, and not that she had contracted the virus. She had been in countless meetings over the past few weeks; she had missed plenty of meals and hadn’t gotten any rest. The witch placed her hands on her hips and took a lingering look at the faces of all of us that were gathered, “If any of you know about Natianara’s whereabouts or intentions, I expect you to share that information with me, as our lives greatly depend on it. So far, the virus hasn’t spread from Kelvar, and we hope to keep it that way. We do not need another attack on our shores, as the last one almost undid us.” She’s referring to when the drow destroyed homes, burned down some of the forest, and maimed and murdered the residents, about a decade ago. “Also… Teoria from Twister Island feels that she’s going to pinpoint exactly what’s causing this sickness, and how best to treat it, so I’m hopeful that in a matter of days, we will have answers.” Everyone clapped at this new knowledge, and I found myself wondering if Teoria truly possessed such knowledge, or if this was a false promise. A few asked questions, which I hardly found interesting, so my mind wandered to Natianara. What was her plan? Where was had she been all this time?

The Third of May

The past week flew by in a flurry of catering to the newly sick, consoling the nearly dying, and placing countless bodies atop the funeral pyre. The researchers and chemists were unable to make much use of the corpses, and it was about time they were burned as the stench of decay was unbearable. Most of Kelvar wept, hugged their neighbor, and prayed that their loved ones wouldn’t be the next body hurled atop the pyre. Lanara called another meeting, which was basically a repeat of the last, but this time we all were introduced to the shaman, Teoria. She was a middle aged, dark skinned human, with a strong dialect that was difficult for most of us to comprehend. Teoria has her black locks braided and coiled into a bun, she has vivid green eyes, and her lips are always painted a fiery shade of orange. She wears brightly colored clothing and carries a staff that is taller than most of the villagers, and despite her friendly disposition, she has perfected the art of resting bitch face. No one knows the full extent of the woman’s power, but Lanara had placed her faith in this foreigner, so we know to show respect and cater to her every whim. As the meeting came to a close, Teoria waltzed up to me and placed her hand atop my shoulder, “Seems like you are the lightest of skin and I am the darkest of skin in these parts! We have to stick together, yes?” She chuckled and gave me a conspiratorial wink, before she headed out into the night.

The Tenth of May

Lanara nearly tore my bedroom door off the hinges around dawn, as she breathlessly sat beside my bed, and violently shook me awake. For months I had vivid images of this woman in my bedroom, all of which made me feel ashamed for I had never felt this way about anyone, least of all a woman! This was not exactly how I imagined being alone with my crush, but beggars can’t be choosers, and so I wiped the sleep from my eyes and studied her with a quizzical look. Lanara was wearing a bikini, which I’m come to learn is her idea of sleepwear, and I try to keep the embarrassing blush from my cheeks and maintain eye contact. “Get up, Brooklyn! We have to go to Teoria’s hut on the hill, immediately, as she’s had a vision. You are the one I’ve come to trust the most, and so I want you to bear witness to what she has to tell me. I assume it has to do with the virus, so we must hurry!” I wasn’t asked if I wanted to tag along, nor was I even given the opportunity to change into something suitable for the trek uphill, in the middle of the night. Sighing impatiently, Lana breezes out of the room, and I’m forced to crawl from my bed, step into a pair of fuzzy slippers, and jog outside to catch up. The brisk autumn air creeps over my clad legs as I wrap my arms around my middle, my red threadbare nightgown contrasting with my white flesh and making me look like a recently sacrificed sheep. We stepped into Teoria’s hut and the scent of sage was strong in the air, as the shaman sat in the lotus position, and looked to be in a meditative state. Lanara pulls two chairs over and we each take a seat, admiring Teoria’s focus, until the woman begins to loudly chant and her eyes snap open. I gasped as the shaman’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and all the light vanished from the room, as though someone had blown out each candle. She spoke in a bellowing voice as her body begins to tremble, “The disease which plagues the land of Kelvar is not from the food, the wildlife, or even from outside forces. It cannot be washed from the flesh, no potions or medicines will have effect, nor can it be cured by magical means. This appears to be a virus, though it’s not the type of virus you both are thinking, as it only targets Kelvarian Elves… This virus is a ‘virus’ of the mouth, spoken forth from a pair of lush lips, filled with vile intent. It was cast with the tongue of an innocent, the soul of a white witch, and the hatred of a blood mage. This powerful curse has been planned for several years, as the caster holds hatred in her heart for the one that gave her life! The one who cast this evil is none other than Natianara Ryder! She is responsible for the mutilation of Belgemine Fleck, the murder of Sharna Banks and the rest of the residents of Kelvar…The letter sent to Lanara was carefully calculated, a deliberate lie about Natianara being sick and not Sharna, to lure the witch to the lands. She knew that Lana would merely offer kind words if it were Sharna that had fallen ill, or even a few members of the community, as there are many adept healers in Kelvar. A daughter’s plea, however? Is harder to turn ones back on, yes? Now, Nat’s plan has come to fruition, and I fear it means the worst for all of Kelvar…” Teoria fainted after confessing her vision and Lanara blinked back tears and started shrieking at the top of her lungs, “I KNEW I should have aborted that baby, but NO, I had to have a heart and look what’s happening now?! This is all her fault… She killed Sharna, the kindest woman I’ve ever known, the one that raised Nat! She used blood magic!!! She’s destroying everyone and everything I love… My friends, my family, my homeland, and this is unforgivable! What if she travels back to Lithrydel and does something horrible there?! Where the hell is she?! I’ve lost Tiber, I’m apart from Taly, and I miss my familiars and friends. This was no accident or misuse of magic… Why did I think the granddaughter of Thronnel, hell, the daughter of Desparrow, would turn out to be this angelic little girl?! She’s equally as awful!” Finally, the dam had broken, and Lanara wept so hard and for so long, that I felt as though my own heart was breaking. Teoria woke and we helped to bed, vowing to meet up in a few days, once she had rested. It was late morning when I crawled back into bed, and my heart had never felt heavier. I was glad that it wasn’t me who spilled the truth about Natianara, but I still felt as though there was blood on my hands, too.

The Sixteenth of May

I received a letter this morning from Teoria, inviting me to a meeting in her hut at sundown, and I burned the note as soon as I read the final word. We had to be careful, because none of us knew the extent of Natianara’s power, or her true intentions for Kelvar. She still hadn’t returned to the lands, and the few glimpses I’ve caught of Lanara in the past few days had left me unsettled. The witch had lost a considerable amount of weight, her cheek bones were more pronounced than ever, and her clothes practically swallowed up her body. Often, she was lost in thought, and one had to repeat themselves or give her a light tap on the arm, to garner her full attention. Lana looked as though she needed a bear hug, a fifth of vodka, and reassurance that everything would be alright. More residents continued to die, and a few of the researchers had packed up and headed home, lest they put their own lives on the line. I couldn’t blame them, of course, no one wanted to die. I kept myself busy throughout the day and as dusk arrived, I draped a shawl over my shoulders and made the trek uphill. I was the last to arrive and Teoria locked the door behind me, ushered me to a seat beside Lanara, and had begun speaking in a hurried whisper. “Natianara is returning to Kelvar, and she should arrive here as the sun rises, in six days. I had another vision, and this one is more unpleasant than the last…” She paused, her gaze glued to Lana’s, as she continued, “Your daughter cannot be trusted, but she will continue to play her game of trying to fool you, as she stabs you in the back. In the month that she’s been gone, she allied herself with King Zeildor, of House Zeiss. He is an Elder Vampire, a high ranking member of the undead society, and he will do everything in his power to claim the soil of Kelvar. Zeildor and Natianara have amassed an army, from various parts of the world, draining the blood of those that won’t bow to their purpose. King Zeildor’s land was overtaken by another house, and he hopes to rebuild here, which is likely why Natianara cast the curse in the first place. Kelvar cannot defend itself against an army, especially if the residents are dead or too weak to cast magic! It seems as though this unlikely pair has been in cahoots for a few years, and that she didn’t go to Lithrydel to learn about her mother… Lana, she went there to destroy you! As she found out that you were institutionalized, she didn’t consider you an enemy, at least, until you were released.” Teoria took a sip of tea, as I gave Lanara a sidelong glance and saw that her features were contorted in anguish. I shyly reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, as we listened to more of Teoria’s vision. “Natianara promised Zeildor her hand in marriage, and the two hope to reign over Kelvar, but they must be stopped! Nat thinks that there isn’t a way to break the curse, but there is one way to turn the tide in our favor… If the tainted force finds its home in a powerful source, the residents will regain their health… Lanara, you must become the host of this virus, because you are the only High Priestess in Kelvar… It would be too risky to bring Talyara in, because Nat may know that we are planning things and counterattack. There isn’t a cure for this curse, but at least it will give Kelvar a fighting chance, and I know a spell that can extend your life and buy you some time.” Lanara dug her nails into the flesh of my palm, as she responded to Teoria with a nod, “Yes. I will gladly end my life, so that Kelvar may have a future... What is the first step in this transference ritual?” The two spoke until the wee hours of the morning, and even though it seemed we had a solid plan, I had a bad feeling that I couldn’t seem to shake.

The Twentieth of May

The past few days were spent doing everything under Teoria’s order, and I had completed several tasks on my own. A few of the residents were asked to gather certain herbs or items, and others were asked to decorate the sacred altar and to sage the surrounding forest. Under Lanara’s command, the researchers, chemists, and healers from faraway places, were all sent home; this wasn’t a fight to find a cure anymore, it was our duty to defend Kelvar, and we didn’t want there to be any more deaths. Teoria had also left the lands, as she thought it best that she be long gone before Natianara and Zeildor arrived, because some vampires had the power to read one’s mind. If they knew that we had knowledge of their plans, it could end in bloodshed, and we wanted our fighting chance. Teoria buried an enchanted device in the soil, near the southern shore, and she said that if we had to surrender Kelvar and plot an escape, it would help. All we had to do was dig up the device, press a button, and a fire ball would shoot into the sky. The flame would remain in the air for many hours, and could be seen all the way from Twister Island. Help would come, and grant us passage to wherever we needed to go, and she promised that she would welcome those that needed a new home, with open arms. Before she stepped aboard the boat, she pulled Lanara in for a tight hug, “Natianara didn’t lie about one thing… Sharna did deliver a message on her deathbed, about Tiberius Lowell being your soul mate, and she spoke the truth... Be smart about this Lanara! Don’t send any letters after today, make yourself scarce around Belgemine, and do all in your power to keep Kelvar safe. Think with your mind when it comes to Nat, not your heart, because that wicked girl will try to outfox you!” She placed a chaste kiss to Lana’s forehead, boarded the boat, and a few moments later she faded from sight as the fog had settled. I stood on the shore, at Lana’s side, and tried to give her a faint smile, but I found myself unable to muster more than a grimace. Teoria had just given Lanara the kiss of death, and I couldn’t find any comfort in the fact that Kelvar would be saved, if it meant that the witch had to die.

The Twenty-First of May

A full moon rose in the sky as we all gathered in the clearing, surrounded by tall trees, and faced the salt sprinkled circle that had been arranged on the ground. A small dais was at the center and Lanara stood in the nude, the glow of the moon dancing across her silken flesh, as she closed her eyes and focused on removing any negative energy from her form. I averted my gaze from her most private areas, as this wasn’t a moment to admire my crush, especially when she was facing death. A trio of crones repeatedly circled the area, wafting sage in every which direction, as Lanara lifted her arms above her head and opened her eyes. The witch spoke in a language I don’t understand, as she pressed an athame into her palm, and danced from within the circle. I glanced at the ground and saw that with each step, a droplet of crimson fell into the earth, and the dance ended once the mark of the pentacle filled the center. We all gasped as the bloody pentagram had erupted into flames, the smell of smoke, and the sight of the beautiful brunette dancing in the fire emblazed in our minds. It seemed as each flick of the flames touched Lanara, her movements began to slow, but she didn’t cry out or break the circle. This continued for several moments, when finally, her movements turned jerky and sporadic, but her voice remained strong. I held my breath as the fire died out, glowing embers mixing with the blood of the witch, as the earth absorbed the magic of the spell and the ritual had reached its completion. Lanara smiled at the crowd, unshed tears in her eyes, as she stepped from the circle. A robe was gently wrapped around her naked form and Lana muttered a joke about hating sky-clad rituals, before she sipped from a glass of ale. I was amazed at how she had any energy left after shedding a decent amount of blood, dancing around in the fire, and literally offered her body to a curse which would eventually take her life. She didn’t look the slightest bit sick, nor did she sustain a single burn! The only proof of the ritual was that her right hand bore a linear streak of red, but the bleeding had greatly subsided. Lana looked around the clearing as she bit into a cookie, replenishing the energy she had lost, “Around midnight, those in the sick bay will begin to heal from the virus, and I will begin to feel the effects of the ritual. No one else will fall victim to Kelvaravirus! Please… Do not tell anyone what occurred here this night, as blood magic is frowned up, and I don’t want Natianara to know that I’ve sacrificed myself for the future of Kelvar. She wouldn’t understand, nor would she want me to die…That said, I thank you all for coming to loan some of your magic to the circle, and to bear witness. Merry Meet, Merry Part, and Merry Meet Again!” Spoken like a true leader, everyone nodded their consent and parted ways, believing that the nightmare would soon end. Lanara had kept it a secret that Natianara was the reason behind the ‘virus’ and it’s likely for the best, at least for now. She wasn’t protecting her daughter, she was protecting Kelvar. I nibbled on a cookie, a sick feeling in my gut at the ramifications of what had transpired over the past few months, and only when I locked eyes with Lanara and saw her smile falter, did I realize that I had wept for the duration of the ritual.

The Twenty-Second of May

As promised, everyone in the healer’s tents seemed to feel slightly better, and it was a sure sign that last night’s ritual had worked. It was a bittersweet feeling, because the lives of those infected, and the land I had come to call home, would all be salvaged… Yet, I felt no joy from this miraculous discovery, because it meant that Lanara was facing death. Who know if Natianara would return with a far more devious plan? She would be furious to know that it was her mother, the main target, which had foiled her plans and undid all her work. I had lost a tongue for nothing, and Sharna had lost far more, a life. Murmurs of surprise ran rampant over the village as everyone was elated over the fact that the sick were getting better with each passing moment, and it was all too much for me to bear. I needed a moment to myself, so I fled from my morning duties of milking the cows and tried to settle my racing heart, when I saw a hooded figure entering the rookery. I slowed my steps and peeked through the lone window, surprised to see Lanara lowering her hood and dipping a quill into the inkwell. Teoria told us that it was unsafe to send any letters once Natianara and Zeildor arrived, so I assumed she was sending a final notice to someone. I waited outside for a few moments, until the dove was sent to deliver the message, its snow white wings noisily flapping upwards. I felt like an intruder when I stepped into the small building and saw the witch wrapping fresh gauze about her hand. The wound from the ritual must have reopened when she wrote the letter, so I closed the distance between us and applied pressure to her hand. Lanara cries openly as our gazes lock, “I wrote a note to Tiber… Telling him that I won’t be able to write again for quite some time, and that he should move on… I wish I didn’t have to write that letter, Bessie. I love him, and I think I have loved him for a few years, long before we even had a label on what we were to each other…” The tears continue to spill, so I hand her my handkerchief, and give her a moment to calm down. Lanara was still calling me by the wrong name, but at least it starts with a ‘B’ so I can’t be too angry. I pat her shoulder, sympathetically, until she shoves her grief to the side and manages a weak smile, “I think a few drops of my blood marred the letter… Poor Tiber! He’s going to think-“ Lana falls silent as an ‘aha’ moment brightens her face, “Natianara has just arrived! I better get to the shore, so they don’t suspect anything… Would you mind setting the rest of the carriers free? That way we won’t have any messages going out that could complicate matters.” It’s a grand idea, and I don’t mind having to do it alone, despite the fact that we have several dozen cages. I spent the rest of the morning cleaning up the empty rookery, as I wasn’t the least bit interested in greeting Natianara or Zeildor. I hope that the flux of birds fleeing Kelvar decide to unleash their bowels all over the couple.

The Third of June

Up until now, only Natianara and Zeildor have disgraced Kelvar with their presence, but we have all been notified that many more members of House Zeiss will be on their way. Natianara spoke matter-of–factly over dinner, “I expect every room to be spic and span, several animals to be slaughtered, and the Meeting Hall to be decorated in welcome. Our guests should begin arriving tomorrow, and they are all to be greeted at the shore, and escorted promptly to the middle of the village. There will be a ball on the tenth, and all of you are expected to attend, in your finest attire. At that time, King Zeildor and I will deliver an important message to all that are gathered, so you don’t want to miss it!” A forced smile is offered to the crowd, before Nat rests her hand atop Zeildor’s, and the two leaned in for a tender kiss. As they were preoccupied, I glanced over and saw Lanara shake her head in dismay, before she exited the hall. I followed a short distance behind, before the witch spun on her heel, and growled, “That bloodsucker is the worst! He groped my ass this morning, and he’s jamming his tongue down my daughter’s throat in front of all of Kelvar! We both know that their ‘party’ and ‘guests’ is really their ploy to take over the kingdom, and even though everyone is mostly healed from the virus… I doubt we can stand up to hundreds of vampires.” The witch is correct, and has every reason to worry, because our population is a mere sixty-five… I frowned and shrugged, unsure of how to help, and Lana scoffed and threw her hands up in the air, “What the frack am I supposed to do?” A stream of crimson flowed from Lana’s left nostril as she swayed on her feet, and I reached out an arm to steady her, when I was roughly shoved to the side and Natianara took my place. “Mother! You don’t look so well! Come along! I will personally escort you to your private quarters… We have to make sure you are in tip top shape for the ball next week. It will be a party to –die- for, and I don’t want you to miss a single second!” A wicked grin swept across Nat’s fair face, as she all but drug her disoriented mother into the night and across the forest. I went to follow after the pair, but a strong hand clapped on my shoulder and firmly held me in place, “I’m sure Natianara is more than capable of looking after her mother, White One.” I heard the threat in his masculine voice, as I looked up at Zeildor and tried my hardest not to glare as I used mindspeak to deliver my message, “I have no doubt that Lady Natianara is a capable woman…. Just as I have no doubt that Lanara is far more capable than any one of us in Kelvar.” Having mentally said my piece, I twisted my shoulder from beneath his grasp and stormed back into the dining area to help with the dishes. I could feel his dark gaze on my back, and I knew that he was advanced enough in telepathy to feel the fury behind my message. Even without a tongue, I had managed to have the last word, and it felt wonderful! Zeildor had some nerve underestimating the witch, or any of us, for that matter!

The Tenth of June

I had met with Lanara earlier in the day, to borrow a silver cocktail dress, as well as to go over our plans for this dreaded party. My job for the evening was to stand guard at the punch bowl, making sure that no one tried to spike it with any sort of disabling agent, as we weren’t sure what our enemies had in store for Kelvar. The last thing on my mind was the stupid party that Natianara was hosting, as thoughts of Lanara had occupied my thoughts, as she was beginning to truly show signs of sickness. It began with nosebleeds, a few coughing fits throughout each day, and terrible migraines. Each day Lana’s appetite grew less, her sun-kissed skin seemed to fade to a grayish complexion, and she continued to grow weaker. She was still nearly as ravishing as the day she arrived in Kelvar, but the sadness in her eyes was enough to haunt my dreams. Rarely did she use her magic these days, though the crone’s in the village were eager to lend a helping hand, as it was Lanara’s life that had been sacrificed in place of theirs, and the witch they once gossiped about was now viewed as a daughter to the Elder’s. One couldn’t help but adore the witch, and it was obvious that Natianara harbored jealousy, as she took verbal jabs at every opportunity and often was giving her mother the stink eye. Now, as I stand behind the table, watching people ladling punch into waiting cups, I can sense the change in the atmosphere as Natianara and Zeildor climb upon the stage and command everyone’s attention. Thankfully, everyone gets the hint and leaves my general area, so that I can safely glance towards the exit and mentally brief myself on the escape plan. I’m only half listening to Natianara’s babbling, something about marrying Zeildor and uniting the living and the undead, when I see a group of vampires enter the scene and quickly disperse, as though they knew exactly who to target. Suddenly, the celebration becomes a massacre as the newcomers bare their fangs and attack unsuspecting elves, swiftly moving through the crowd in a feral frenzy. They drink their fill, intent on killing rather than turning their victims, and those that dare to put up a fight are met with a violent jerk of their heads, thus broken necks. I quickly exited the area, the plan that Lanara had laid out for us committed to memory, and I tried not to retch as my shoe steps in a gooey puddle of crimson gore. The sound of bones snapping, blood being slurped into the mouths of the undead, and the screams of the innocent, are all enough to fuel my feet into fleeing to safety. I paused at the door and glanced over my shoulder, a whiff of copper making me nauseas, as Natianara’s voice booms over the cries for help, “ENOUGH! We need to keep a decent amount of these elves alive, to feed from in the coming months, and to offer to our new allies as they arrive. I’m sure they will be starving!” The vampires in the crowd all chuckle and corral the helpless elves into a small group, though one in particular is kicking and screaming and as she turns to deliver a throat punch to her captor, I recognize the feisty elf as none other than Lanara Banks. The petite witch is known near and far for her magic, but just like the majority of mages, her weakness is hand-to-hand combat. As her fist connects with the vampires face, he responds by pulling her into his arms and bowing his head to her neck, Zeildor abruptly descends the stage and firmly yanks Lanara against his chest. “She is not to be tasted, under any circumstance! We have special plans for this one! Take the still breathing elves and throw them into the cage, and then go and find yourselves a room. Welcome to your new and soon to be improved home!” Bodies lay scattered around the room and I could deduce that we had lost about half of our population, while the rest were wounded or in a state of shock. With Lanara captured and the future of Kelvar in the hands of undead terrorists, I tearfully ran the long distance to the southernmost part of the forest. Once I found the correct tree with the barely visible crevice, I snuck into the hollow, which was a rather perfect hiding place that Lanara had planned for us both to use in case something bad happened. The ‘bad’ had most definitely happened, but sadly, only one of us had made it to this safe haven.

The Fourth of August

I managed to remain hidden four three days, but of course; it was the stark white contrast of my flesh against the dark of night that had alerted one of the vampiric guards. I was so thirsty and the stream was only about three hundred feet to my right, so I waited until I believed everyone to be asleep and I snuck out of my hiding place, in the hollow of the tree. As I was cupping a third handful of water to my lips, I heard a twig snap nearby, and then the world had gone completely black. I woke up in the cage with the others, and from the looks of things, the past three days that they were kept as prisoners had been nearly unbearable. Morale was at an all time low, everyone was in a foul mood, and several had lost too much blood to even lift their heads. It seemed as though our population had dwindled even more, and I counted only thirty-four remaining elves. The bars of the cage had been enchanted so that no one could cast any magic, thus taking away any chance of defending themselves. Sonya, the youngest child in Kelvar, who was only a few weeks shy of her fourth birthday, was slumped in the far corner of the cage. I approached to see if she was alright and rested a hand upon her shoulder, though she didn’t bother to look at me. Thinking she was afraid, I gently went to raise her head by pressing my palm against her chin, and that’s when her heard rolled off her body and landed on the dirt floor. Several elves had screamed, as they were too caught up in their own misery to have noticed that the little girl’s throat had been ripped out during a feeding, and that she had died at some point in the past few days. A few of us had used our hands to dig a shallow grave and Lanara led the group in prayer, as we all wept for little Sonya and the life that had been stolen. We had been kept in the cage for five weeks, we were treated like animals, and abused in unspeakable ways. A single loaf of stale bread and a pitcher of water were placed in the cage every morning, and we had to divide it amongst ourselves. Each night the vampires would come and select the healthiest elves and use them for whatever they desired, be it pleasures of the flesh, a blood frenzy meal, or as a punching bag to test their skills. As promised, none were turned, and they were careful about killing off too many for fear of Zeildor and Natianara’s wrath. One night Zeildor approached the bars and removed Lanara from the cage, and the two went into his private quarters for quite some time. I’m unsure of what words were exchanged, but the next morning, those that didn’t have any magical abilities were removed from the cage. We were allowed to wander freely, eat complete meals, and sleep on cots in a designated area. I, of course, traveled back to the tree to retrieve my diary, and it felt wonderful to have even a small semblance of freedom again. No one was allowed to leave Kelvar without permission from Zeildor, and more guards were stationed at the shores to keep a close watch. Zeildor held a meeting with the vampires and he ordered that those in the cage weren’t to be fed upon, and those that were granted a fraction of freedom could only be fed upon every other day, so that no one else would bleed to death. This bargain that he made with the witch had come with a heavy price, however, as Lanara had become Zeildor’s personal pet. Every night the witch was taken from the cage, and at dawn every day she was thrown back into the cage, brandishing new injuries from the horrors that she faced.

The Twelfth of August

I cannot stand by and just watch Zeildor destroy what’s left of Lanara, because I am in love with the witch, and also because she sacrificed her life to rid ours of the curse that her daughter placed. By now, I’d imagine, that Natianara had figure out what had transpired when she was off gallivanting with the bloodsuckers, because she had begun to chime in on the nightly torture sessions with Zeildor. At first, Zeildor would forces Lanara to remove her clothing and he would deliver a few dozen lashes to her back, with a belt, a whip, or a cane. Next, came the mental anguish, where he would order her to abuse animals. She had skinned a litter of just weaned kittens, slit the throat of six healthy goats, and mutilated several other forest dwelling animals. After she had maimed and slaughtered to Zeildor’s delight, she was forced to eat the heart or intestines of the animals, and complete the sadistic night by bathing in their blood. Another night, they forced Lanara to dance over shards of broken glass, and if she cried in pain or stopped moving, she was given an electric shock. All of this, on top of the fact that she’s dying a slow, agonizing death. The worst of it is that after every vicious beating or dehumanization, she is tossed back into the cage, and she’s forced to sit there in extreme pain until the next night. Some days all she can do is sleep; other days her screams are enough to wake the dead. And then Zeildor returns, and like an obedient child, Lanara crawls over to her new ‘master’ and he tends to her injuries and cradles her in his arms. Perhaps he does care for her in a twisted sort of manner, but as he carries her off, she’s only going to face another horror and live another day to die a little more inside. Natianara is often heard bickering with Zeildor, commenting on how he looks at Lana with desire, and how he is spending less time working on their plans of world domination. My worry is that Lanara has been conditioned to believing that Zeildor is the only touch that offers comfort now, and that she’s starting to bizarrely trust her abuser. I have to figure out something, and it needs to be done soon, because I don’t think the witch will last much longer.

The Thirtieth of August

Nothing has changed in the past few weeks, aside from the fact that three more vampire clans have arrived in Kelvar. There has been an increase in feedings, and Zeildor has changed the rule about feeding from a host every other day, to once daily. Those that are ‘free’ are pale and walk around the forest like zombies, afraid of their own shadows. The magic users that are kept in the cage stare blankly beyond the bars, wishing this nightmare would soon end. Natianara bumped into me this morning and she angrily grabbed me by the hair and ordered a guard to lock me up in the cage, despite the fact that I cannot use any magic. None of the vampires dared to feed from me, as they assumed my blood held some sort of taint, due to my albinism. At least I was spared from getting bitten on the neck, so I suppose it’s the first time my white flesh has served an actual purpose. Nat allowed me to keep my diary, but she laughed hysterically, as she knows my inkwell won’t last forever, and that I am unable to speak or communicate in any other fashion. However, in the past few weeks, I have managed to steal a few books from the small library and I have an idea that may lead to an escape. I just need to make sure everyone on the cage is on the same page, and I’m not sure if Lanara can be trusted. She relies too heavily on Zeildor now, and the fact that he can read minds is alarming. What if she spills secrets without meaning to and foils any chance at our freedom? I need to sleep on this and hopefully I will have more clarity in the morning.

The Thirty-First of August

Last night Lanara was hurled into the cage with such force that I was sure she had broken every bone in her body and perished before my eyes. She groaned and rolled from side to side, clutching her protruding ribs, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head as a tremor went through her body. Two of the crones rushed to her aide and held her down, as one reached into her mouth to grab hold of Lana’s tongue, as the seizure had its way with the little witch. After what seemed like hours, the violent trembling ceased, and the crones returned to their corner of the cage. Lanara started to weep and my heart broke at the sight of her bruised covered body, the once lustrous locks that hung limp, fingernails that were bitten to the quick, tattered clothing that was covered in blood and dirt, and of course, the tears that were streaming down her fair face. I sat beside Lana and gently pulled her into my arms, and as our eyes locked, I felt such an overwhelming passion for the woman and I leaned in to see if she would accept a tender kiss. Something snapped in her then, as she began to shriek in terror and punched me in the face. I cupped my right cheek and tried to wordlessly offer an apology, but her terrified screams had alerted the guards and they swiftly opened the cage. Zeildor also came running, as he sensed Lanara’s distress, and he ordered for me to be flogged, before he lifted the witch in his arms and carried her off. It was dawn now, and everyone was staring at me like I was some sort of monster, as the pair of guards drug me from the cage. All I had tried to do was provide some sort of comfort to Lana, and instead of relishing in the moment, she had struck me! Zeildor was the real threat! The fact that she stopped screaming and allowed her captor to comfort her was the biggest insult I have ever received in my entire life. Even as the guards repeatedly struck me against my back, buttocks, and legs with heavy sticks, the burn that truly left me beaten was the fact that Lanara had rejected me.

The Fifth of September My wounds are almost completely healed and I have been writing little notes back and forth with one of the Elder’s that I consider trustworthy. Dotty is on board with what needs to be done, and she relayed my messages to the others in the cage, aside from Lanara. The plan is that everyone that can wield magic is to focus on ‘grounding’ their energy and forcing it into the dirt beneath the interior of the cage. It’s true that the bars induced a silencing effect on everyone’s powers; however the energy is going into another source, just below where the bars reach. Nature is a gift from the Goddess and everything flows through her, so our plan is to force all that magic into the earth and store it for later use. We imagine it will take a few weeks, as the witches in the cage aren’t as strong as they were before being imprisoned. Once the hum of magic is deemed strong enough, I will drink a glamour potion, and I will take Lanara’s place to be tortured. As I’m taken away and Zeildor and Natianara are kept busy, the elve’s outside of the cage will distract the guards, and those inside the cage will call upon their stored powers, and that energy will cause a magnificent earthquake. By the time everyone is free and the guards are fended off, I should be finished with my torture session, and as I’m being escorted back to the cage, I will escape the guards and flee into the woods. I will send out the flare to alert Twister Island that we need backup, and the crone’s will cast a spell to keep anyone from ever entering or exiting Kelvar until the last vampire perishes. Then, we will all board the boat and head to a safe location and make plans from there. I just hope this works, because we are all greatly suffering, and this is our only hope. I will write again in a little while, as I don’t want to use up all of my ink, and I have to figure out how to secure a glamour potion. Goddess give me strength!

The Twenty-First of September

Something is greatly amiss, because Zeildor hasn’t had his guards take Lanara for a torture session in three days. Does that mean their ‘deal’ is off? Will the vampires kill all of the remaining residents in Kelvar? Is Natianara working on another evil plan? One of the elves outside of the cage was kind enough to pass a note to the healing center, and thankfully, the charge nurse was the only magic user that was allowed outside of the cage. She had kindly brewed a glamour potion that would make the drinker look identical to none other than Lanara Banks. I sat with my spine against the cage bars, staring sympathetically at Lana, as she hugged her knees to her chest and continuously rocked back and forth. The witch was damaged, physically and psychologically, and it broke the hearts of everyone that looked her way. Zeildor made sure that she was beaten into submission every night, and the woman obediently accepted each strike against her flesh and mind. She had sacrificed her life to protect the people of her homeland, endured the fact that her estranged daughter had turned to the dark side, indefinitely parted from her lycan soul mate, missed her friends and family back in Lithrydel, and the only one that she would allow to touch her or tend to her wounds was the one that was causing them in the first place! I wondered many times if Zeildor had developed feelings for the witch, or if it was part of his sadistic game, to see how close to death he could harm Lana before tending to her injuries. I also wondered if Lanara was biding her time before issuing an attack on Zeildor, and I hoped that her obedience wasn’t due to her brokenness, but more of a farce. Our daily loaf of bread and pitcher of water arrived and the guard paused as he slips it into our cage, his gaze locked on the form of the trembling witch, “This will all be over soon! You all are set to die right after the wedding!” As he chuckled, I saw Lana slip from her stupor and cast an icy glare at the vampire, “We’ll see who dies and who lives…” Thankfully, his retreating back was to our cage and her words went unheard; otherwise she surely would have paid for that statement. The bread was carefully torn into equal sized pieces and passed around the cage, and it was the first night that Lanara had joined our small circle for food and drink. Most of our minute meal passed in silence, and just when we all felt it was time to retreat to our corners, Lanara cleared her throat and drew our attention. Dark chocolate hues which had been dull and pained for weeks were now shining brightly with wisdom, “I apologize if I haven’t been myself… Between the curse and that bastard’s sick games, it’s a miracle that I’m still alive. I know you all have been up to something; at least I hope you have been plotting, as I have been trying to buy us as much time as possible. But… If Zeildor and Natianara are marrying, it means our death is coming that much quicker.” She started to cough and I saw bright red spots on her palm, which she quickly rubbed into the dirt, before glancing at each of our faces, raw emotion evident in her expression. A single tear slid down her cheek, “Look… You guys can trust me; I’m not a fracking informant for those two psychos and their twisted desires to rule the world. I just want us all to be safe and free again, and I just need to live long enough to return to Lithrydel. I need to see Tiberius one more time… I have to tell him my true feelings. Because we are soul mates, like Sharna said, and that means we were designed for one another. If I don’t tell him how I feel, and if I should die, that means he won’t have another chance to find true love. He should hear it, even if it’s only one time, straight from my lips. I owe him that, along with giving him the tip I learned from his past, and I have other things to take care of… I want to see Taly wed Krice, I need a few more fun nights with Meri and Khitti, I want to rid Callum of Caiburne, I need to figure out a way to wake up Kyori, I would love some more girl talk with Penny, I have to see how Alvina is handling the skull’s powers, I would love one last grand adventure, and of course I must visit my animal sanctuary one last time.” None of us knew who these people were or much of what she was babbling about, but as she burst into tears and wrapped her arms tightly around her rapidly fading frame, we all felt that Lanara deserved to be included in our plan. I reached out to place a comforting hand on Lana’s shoulder and I felt her stiffen, but she didn’t give me another black eye or freak out like the last time, so I slowly moved to pull her into my arms for a hug. The witch was a rack of bones and she reeked of dried blood and urine, but I still cradled her in my arms as I nodded to one of the Elder witches. It was time that we brought Lanara up to date on what we had planned. Once she finished sobbing, the others told Lana everything, and I sat up late into the night gently rubbing the woman’s back. She fell asleep with her head on my shoulder and her arms wrapped tightly around my waist, as though she depended on me to keep her safe from anyone that haunted her dreams.

The Twenty-Sixth of September

Natianara approached our cage shortly after dawn, and stood far enough away that the stench of the buried child didn’t assault her nostrils, but near enough away that we all heard her clearly. “King Zeildor and I will be getting married on the first day of October, and all of you will be bathed, have your hair combed, and be placed in clean clothing. You all will be giving your lives for the greater good of the realm and that is a wonderful accomplishment, so I hope you all are proud of your sacrifice! The reception will be held around six thirty at night, and that’s when you all will be collared and leashed and brought over to the meeting hall. Don’t even attempt to defend yourself or use any sort of magic, as the collar has a silencing effect, and the vampires will be hungry and not want to play with their prey.” A sinister smile was splayed on Natianara’s face as she turned her attention to where Lanara and I were seated, “Mother! Ivory Idiot! You two are being rewarded for your obedience! Mother, you will officiate the ceremony in the late afternoon, and your albino friend will be a witness to the nuptials. Of course, all members of the vampiric community will be present, and we are expecting four new clans to arrive that morning to join our cause. It will be a wonderful celebration!” A gleeful giggle escaped Nat, as she stepped closer to the cage and winked at Lanara, “I bet you didn’t think I figured out that you took the curse upon your own body, huh? Well, I did! So don’t you worry that pretty little head about being fed upon, because we don’t want your taint to harm anyone. However… I have plans for you, Mother. We are going to use you as a ‘host’ and try and transfer Thronnel’s soul into your body! And then we will bleed your freak friend’s life force into you, so that Grandpa Thronnel will have a healthy body to occupy once he’s returned to the realm of the living.” I watched in horror as Lanara sprang from the dirt and tried to pull her daughter through the bars and into our cage. The two struggled for a moment before the guards came and pried the woman apart, but I was pleased to see that Lana had ripped a fistful of Nat’s hair out, and she was still holding it like it was a weapon. After a few minutes, Lana looked at me and grinned, “We need to act soon… I think that their wedding day will be a very memorable event, indeed!”

The First of October – Pre Wedding

I’ve spent the past few days going over the plan with Lanara and the others in the cage, yet, this morning I woke up with my nerves frazzled. What if something went horribly wrong? So many lives were at stake, there were too many what if’s circling in all of our minds, and none of us were exactly in fighting condition after the mistreatment of the past few months. A few were still recovering from the Kelvaravirus! As ordered, all of us were allowed to bathe, dress ourselves in freshly laundered attire, and we were given a decent meal for the first time in a very long time. Over breakfast, Lanara was quieter than usual, and every time she glanced my way I saw that her eyes were wet with unshed tears. A few guards entered our cage to clean up the feces and sprinkle fresh dirt, and we were commanded to weave flowers around the bars, to mask the foulness in the air. Once midday hit, Natianara came to collect Lanara and I, and we were ushered into a spacious room with a double bed, a triple-mirrored vanity, and a mini bar that contained the finest of ales. It was Lana’s duty to dress Nat in her wedding gown, pin her long hair into an elegant up-do, and to apply her makeup. This would take a few hours, so in the meantime, Lanara gave me a list of items to collect before she performed the handfasting. Nat was too busy gazing at her reflection in the mirror to notice that her mother scribbled a few objects that had nothing to do with the ceremony. They waved me off, and one of the guards accompanied me on the errands, which was welcome as I had to carry quite a bit back to the room. Once there, I deposited the items on the bed and kept to myself, as Lana and Nat seemed to be having some sort of argument. Natianara hurled one accusation after another at her mother, claiming that she had no one to give her away, and it couldn’t be Lana as she already gave her up once. Lana was fast to retort, as she often had to have the last word, and she accused Nat of murdering their aunt in order to curse her homeland, the woman that had raised her since infancy. There were many comments involving Lanara’s maniacal father and the abuse she had sustained, and from where I was seated, it was obvious that both women had severe daddy issues. Lana had given a final attempt to reconcile with her daughter and forgive all past transgressions, and told her not to marry Zeildor, and she promised to find her the best therapist that gold could buy. This didn’t go over well, and Nat turned around and slapped Lana so hard across the face, that both women yelped in shock. “I don’t need therapy! His voice tells me exactly what to do, and how I will rule the world! What did you give me, Mother? Nothing! I hate you! I killed Sharna, I tried to kill everyone in Kelvar, and I will kill anyone that stands in my way. I will revive Thronnel, I will locate Desparrow, and all of us will head to Lithrydel! I will destroy your precious animal refuge, I will slaughter Talyara, and I will make certain that anyone and anything you ever cared for will suffer. You created a monster, now accept your fate!” As quickly as her anger had risen, it had dissipated, and both women returned to getting prepared for the wedding. I noticed that Lana’s motions were stiff, her lips were pressed in a thin line, and she was trying her very best to keep her cool. She had to maintain her composure, because in a few short hours our plan would come to fruition. Finally, Natianara was ready to get married, and although I hate to write this, I have to admit that she looked beautiful. “After the ceremony you two can return here… As the reception isn’t for another few hours. I imagine you will need a rest, Mother, as I need your body to be in decent shape for the soul transfer. It’s scheduled for tomorrow morning! Isn’t that lovely? Anyways… Grab whatever supplies you needed and let’s get this show on the road. And whatever you do, don’t get another one of your nosebleeds! I don’t need any stains on my dress.” Nat’s eyes narrowed on me, “You two better be on your best behavior today. Any funny business and I will start hacking off your limbs!” She stepped outside, leaving Lanara and I alone for a brief moment, and we used this time to hide the items that weren’t to be used during the ceremony into a satchel and placed it beneath the bed.

The First of October – Post Wedding

The ceremony went off without any issues, and although I can’t recall ever witnessing another wedding in my lifetime to compare it to, I must admit that it was rather fascinating. The exchange of vows and rings, jumping over the broom, writing wishes in paper lanterns and sending them to the heavens, and concluding the ceremony with a passionate kiss, it was all very dreamlike. I wondered what my life would have been like had I not been born an albino, if I wasn’t forced to be a mute, and if I had ever med the right man or woman. Would I have had a fairytale ending? I know that there isn’t much time until Lanara wakes up, so I’m going to keep this entry short, because I will have to drink the glamour potion and we will have to switch into each other’s clothes. I never put much stock in my intuition department, but I have a feeling that I won’t make it out of this alive, so I’m including a bucket list of things that I hope Lanara will accomplish once she’s gotten herself to safety. This diary will be hidden in the satchel, along with the other items that I gathered earlier, and it’s my final testament. I have no regrets for aiding the elves in their escape, nor do I regret all the months I’ve spent pining for the affection of Lanara. That witch was like a breath of fresh air, she considered me a friend from the start, and if I were to relive my life again, I wouldn’t have done anything differently. I hope Lanara knows that there is still hope, and that she need not die from the curse that her body is hosting. She could become a vampire or a lycan, and I know that she has qualms about both, but a world without Lanara isn’t much of a world at all. She showed me kindness when others ostracized me, her beauty left me breathless, and her magical abilities are beyond compare. The man she loves, Tiber, is a fool if he doesn’t sweet her into his arms and demand her hand in marriage the moment she steps foot back in Lithrydel. I also hope that her sister and friends can forgive her for leaving on such short notice, and I hope they understand that Lanara was born to be a leader, in every possible capacity. I pray that one day she reigns over a kingdom, that she rebuilds all that was lost in Kelvar, and that she never doubts her worth.

Lanara, if you are reading this, I want you to know that I loved you with every breath taken, and that it would mean the world to me if you would complete the following bucket list, on my behalf. A few of the items I tossed in for your benefit, because you need to live a little, just in case you don’t find an alternative to the plague. I also want to thank you for being the only person that I have ever considered a friend, and I’m so sorry that things ended so horribly in Kelvar. Please, don’t carry the guilt on your shoulders, as you couldn’t have predicted that Natianara would have become burdened by a sickness in her mind. Thank you for being so unbelievably strong and for being as beautiful on the inside, as you are in the flesh.

~ Bucket List ~

1. Crash a wedding with a date of your choosing.

2. Go ice skating, ride on a dog pulled sled, and spend the night in an igloo.

3. Have a slumber party with your closest friends, and play Truth or Dare.

4. Learn to play a musical instrument.

5. Get arrested and spend one night in jail.

6. Get a new tattoo or piercing.

7. Go cliff jumping over a waterfall.

8. Face a fear.

9. Attend a Mystery Murder dinner.

10. Leave your mark in this world.

P. S. My name isn’t Betsy, Beetlejuice, Benji, or Bertha… It’s Belgemine!!!

Lanara finishes reading the diary, having lit a lantern midway through, and she steals a glance towards the window. It was almost sunset and the crew would be arriving for dinner within the hour, so her solitude would come to an end. Just as well, she thinks, as her cheeks are moist from tears and she’s in dire need of a nap. She would skip dinner and no one would question her, as she hasn’t shown much of an appetite in quite some time. Rereading the last entry once more, she faintly smiles as Belgemine finally corrects her on the mispronunciation of her name, and she commits the bucket list to memory. She would do all of these things, because she owed it to her friend, who sadly had perished that night as her intuition had proven to be correct. Shaking, as memories of that night suffocate her mind, Lanara dips her quill in the ink and writes one last entry to conclude Belgemine Fleck’s diary.

The Third of December

I apologize that it’s taken me this long to discover the diary, and I can’t remember the exact dates, but I will briefly describe what transpired after Belgemine’s last entry...

After Natianara and Zeildor’s ceremony, Belgemine and I were left to our own devices until the reception that night. We used the time wisely, as we didn’t know if our plan would work, so I napped to preserve my energy and Belgemine packed some souvenirs in my knapsack and sharpened a pair of scissors. Just before the guards came to escort us to the party, we drank our glamour potions, and switched personas. I had taken on the guise of Belgemine, and Belgemine had taken on the guise of me, so that I would be allowed to use my magic and not be guarded as closely. As predicted, Belgemine was led to a secluded area as Zeildor wished to speak with her one final time, and I was led to the party. Zeildor confessed his love for me and said that he was forced into marrying Natianara, and as he leaned in for one first and final kiss, Belgemine plunged the scissors into his chest and waited for the paralyzing agent to take effect. Next, she ran all the way to the spot where we buried the flare and she shot it off, alerting our allies at Twister Island. This distraction drew Natianara’s attention, and she took a small group of guards along to inspect what was happening on the other side of Kelvar, while the newly arrived vampire clans were waiting for their promised meals in the dining hall. Those in the cage eagerly waited for the guards to open the door, and at that precise moment I called upon the element of Earth and all the conserved energy that they had been storing in the ground had magnified tenfold and consumed the lives of all that were within a fifty food radius. Of course, those within the cage went unharmed, as I cast a protection spell! Next, every Kelvarian elf, whether they could or could not use magic, worked in perfect unison to fight off the vampires and our attackers. We were rather successful, and we worked our way towards the shoreline where we waited for the ship from Twister Island. Belgemine was captured and murdered, and only when she took her last breath did the glamour potion wear off, and Natianara realized that she had been duped. I stood side by side with the most powerful crones from the village and we cast a spell that would strengthen the impenetrable fog and make it so that no one could enter or exit Kelvar, unless the spell were broken by a true descendant of Kuruni; meaning myself or my sister, Talyara. I knew it would be a year or more, if Taly were to visit our homeland again, and I knew that every last vampire would be dead by that time without crimson sustenance. The spell required a sacrifice, however, and as soon as Natianara rounded the corner and tackled me to the ground, I found that I was more than ready to say goodbye to my homeland, as well as my daughter. Even in my weakened state, I had managed to stab Nat in the throat with a pair of shears, and as she died in my arms, I muttered, ‘So Mote It Be’ and then I fainted.

I’m told that I slept for over a week, and that once I woke up, I started to scream and found that I couldn’t stop. All the pain I had endured, the torture sessions, the loss of my daughter by my own hands, all of it had mounted into a mass of anxiety and depression. I grew sicker each day from the curse, but thankfully, one of the shamans’s enchanted a pendant for me to wear whenever I wish to mask the curse. When worn, no one would guess that I’m dying, as I look as healthy as I was before I offered my body to be a host. I had hoped that with the one who cast the cursed being deceased that it would vanish, but that isn’t so. I’m told I have limited time in this realm of the living, and I’m guessing I have a little less than two months left. I have started to drink heavily and I began smoking cigarettes, anything to numb the pain. I have so many questions surrounding my daughter and what transpired, I cannot let go of the fact that I’ve failed in so many ways, and I feel this void in my chest where my heart used to be. I dread looking into Talyara’s eyes and telling her that I slit the throat of her niece, so I will avoid that discussion at all costs. I doubt Tiber will want anything to do with me, after the way I skipped town, and I honestly am not sure if I will tell him about the tip I’ve learned concerning his past. If he’s doing well or dating someone, I don’t want to jeopardize his happiness. I’m dying, and I can’t offer him the future that he deserves, even if we are soul mates. I’m sure that Khitti and Meri will welcome me with open arms, and that they won’t ask too many questions, but I’m so scared of growing any closer to anyone at this point… Everyone I love, I tend to lose. My plan is to return to Lithrydel, to rent a one bedroom apartment, and to mask my scent at all times. I don’t want to be followed, I don’t want anyone to know that I’m on borrowed time, and I can’t bear anymore heartache; so I will likely push away the ones that I love. However, I will complete Belgemine’s bucket list, as her death will not be in vain. Those from Kelvar that are with me will find a new home in Enchantment, as I will be meeting with Lunalesca upon my return to Lithrydel. They deserve to find happiness, and I will do everything I can to help them grow comfortable in a foreign land. Also… Every morning when a new day begins, I will pray to the Goddess that Belgemine Fleck is happy on the Otherside. I hope she knows that I considered her a close friend and that I’m eternally grateful for the sacrifices she made. I wish we had more time together and that I could rewrite the past, but even my magic has its limits. If Belgemine were still here, I would tell her that she is uniquely beautiful, stronger than she gave herself credit for, and that she will forever be in my heart.

Lanara tosses the quill to the side, waits for the ink to dry, and slams the book shut. After collecting her things, she heads to her private quarters and sobs into her pillow, until she drifts off to sleep. The witch cannot escape her past, struggles severely in the present, and is terrified of facing the uncertain future. Part of the Lunar Tides and Silver Linings Arc