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Devarelle Running

The first leg of our journey was a whirlwind and I a butterfly. I have transformed since. Gone are the days of naive belief that stability was inevitable. Realization has hardened my skin and sharpened my senses. I strike back now. I understand aggression and the need to strike without hesitation. I know pain and welcome it now, if only to sand down the sharp relief of my previous oppression. I do not fear for the dimensions of me anymore for through discipline they have become clear and I am chagrined at my previous self underestimation. As well, for someone who was born immortal, I have been ignorant to the impact a short amount of time, layered with a crippling amount of incident, can have on a being.

Our days are numbered, or so I believe, and our future unsure. This is my second journal and with each page my heart jumps from hope to havoc. We are but three women now alone in the wilderness of my home Zembeth, constantly staring at the sky, consistently dodging shadows, at risk from above and below. It is an unkind maze of things that would consume us. Myself, Britt and Sara started off into the Shalnes forest with little more than three horses and a few swords. We were running from heart break. We were fleeing for our lives. We have since overturned the world.

I shall not promise a happy ending. I shall only give my word as the former Princess of Zembeth that I will do my duty and continue to document these days of rain and bloodshed, of violent dreams and harbingers of war and revolution. I will light you the way of our dark journey with these my words.

Meriden of Fairfax – Outlaw of Zembeth

--Rowan Canterbury

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