1I dreamt of Damon last night. I was with some of the Dragonlords and they, or we, were celebrating something. Damon wasn’t joining in though: quietly refusing any offers of dancing, drinking, and games, no matter how much Xander or the others pushed. So I asked him to dance: part of a bet to get them all to stop teasing him about being so sullen. I promised him it need only be one, then he could go back to his studies and the others would leave him be. And then… then we danced together for the rest of the night.
It would seem my initial feelings were right, and I now know why he seemed so upset at the mention of Versi: afterall, she holds my heart now. Though, that isn’t her fault. I think Damon should really be upset with me, not her. Perhaps that will come with time, when the shock of me being alive wears off.
I know I should say something, but I clam-up every time I’m near him. So I’ve written a letter instead. I gathered together the last of the flowers for him too: after all, it seems kind of unfair that everyone residing here but him gets flowers, just by virtue of being dead. The battle in Xander’s tomb ruined a few more than I would have liked, so I arranged some feathers in there too - a silly gesture perhaps, but I thought it looked pretty.
2Graxis. From what Xander said, he and his tribe were once noble guardians that had sworn themselves to this place. And then the curse twisted it. I can’t imagine having to do what he did to let his flock sleep. Braz tried valiantly throughout our journey through the tomb to reason with the minotaur, but he was too far gone to listen to anything he said. I think it was difficult for Braz, coming to that realisation.
Graxis might have been violent and crazed when we met him, but I hope that he finds peace in the rest that we forced upon him. Though he very nearly forced US into eternal rest. Five times I pulled my companions back from the jaws of death before one of my songs finally brought him down.
3Magic that touches people’s minds is difficult. It isn’t the same as firing an arrow. It is intimate. The spell I was using when I killed Graxis is designed to make people run in fear and pain... but I was just trying to move him away from the bodies of my downed friends! I didn’t realise that it would be the last thing he felt. The look in his eyes as he begged me to stop will haunt me for a long time yet... I need to sit and think about the exact nature of that song, and whether I can channel it in a way that is a little more kind: if we must continue shepherding people to their deaths, I want to do it with a gentler hand.
4One of the items I was sent here to retrieve has been taken by that Gaius man. Apparently he is on Yonder. I don’t want to go. It is silly, I know. Everyone from my time on that island is dead; even the longest-lived Gygan would have long since passed. But, even so, the idea of going there still sends shivers down my spine. I suppose I have no choice though, and we’ve already been told we need to go there to get Helikaon’s ‘dragon-slaying’ weapons anyway... though, thinking about it, I am not certain WHY he needs them. He has been rather secretive about whatever prophecy Versi gave him. I might try to ask him about it...
5Xander was kind. I was struck, once again, by not knowing exactly what to say though. I wasn’t really prepared for him to… well, talk. It would seem, at least according to him, I might not be the war-mongering monster that I feared. Now that I think about it, Aesop mentioned that I was some kind of messenger, or negotiator - though I think anyone would find it hard to believe that of me now. I guess spending 500 years with only one other person to talk to deteriorates your people skills a bit.
Alke tried to reassure me of my past too this morning: though her argument was something more along the lines of “the past is the past, the future is the future - we can only change one of these things.” Well, that and reminding me that Versi loves me, past be damned, and perhaps that should be enough. And she is right, that should be enough.
It is enough.
6I do not recommend sleeping in your own tomb. Not before you are dead, anyway. I didn’t mean to do it. I went in there to try and look at the walls again and find some more answers. But all the emotion I had been holding in all day just kind of overwhelmed me, and I broke down instead. With tears came exhaustion; and with exhaustion came sleep.
7It would seem that Hippofilius has grown tired of the lack of life in this Necropolis. As I sit here, foolishly pondering what to do about this letter, I am watching him plant all manner of greenery around this place. He certainly has a knack for this kind of thing. And I don’t mean the plants (although, of course, he is good with them too): it is the wonderful habit he has of trying to leave people and places in better shape than he finds them.