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A New Beginning

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Journal Entry 1

I believe, primarily, in two things.

First, I believe that every person in the world is entitled to some amount of happiness. Regardless of who or what that person is, everyone should have the right to joy, no matter how insignificant. 

Second, I believe in taking what you need from life in order to achieve that happiness.

These two beliefs fight with one another often. I am a warlock, and we are not known for acts of mercy. My entire existence has been one act of cruelty after another, beginning with my mother selling my soul to the fel before I was born. Whatever connection I have was not my choice, but my continued use of it is, especially now. I have had every opportunity to stop. When we found Vicailde and returned home, I could have remained home with Damian. We are relatively safe, here. I could do my duty as a mother and raise my son while people better capable of fighting defend our lives against the Legion. I am certain this would make me a better mother than I am now, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave it alone.

I dabbled with my power, and found that the demons were so eager to join me that mastering demonology became a trial. So rather than take that as a sign that perhaps I should give up on it, I looked for other means. I remembered other spells, tried my hand at them. I found that affliction spells came easily. The power to inflict disease and suffering leaped from my hands, covering my victims in boils and open sores. They screamed, they writhed, they begged me for mercy. The Broken Isles called and I answered, for the Horde, and while I told my husband and child that I did it for their sake and the sake of our people, I'm sure they know the truth. I'm going it for me.

I want to hear the screaming, again. I want to hear them beg.

However, with these spells come more surprises. When I kill, the souls of the dead remain. The seem to wander, lost, unsure of what to do. My weapon, glorious thing that it is, has the power to absorb these souls. With them, my spells are more powerful. In this fashion, I have killed my enemies and used their souls to murder their loved ones. Soul after soul, they scream, they beg for mercy. I take it all in, greedy for more, and then I go home to my son. I pretend to be a good mother. I love him, I love spending time with him, but part of me itches for the chance to fight again. That part of me, I fear, will destroy me in the end.

Vicailde must go to the sunwell. He must speak to the Knight Captain, and supposedly will be gone for several days. I admit that the hypocritical side of me feels anxious when he is away, while it was I who remained gone for several nights only days ago. Yet him being gone means that I must stay with Damian, perhaps not go into the Broken Isles so often, if at all. I do this willingly, I would do anything for my son, but the itch remains. I miss the fighting. I miss the screaming.

I can hear some, now. Though it is not the screams of the dead, the voices of demons are with me always.

Free us.

Bind us.

Walk with us.

In an attempt to silence them, my husband granted me a holy blessed relic. I thought that the holy Light was what kept the voices at bay, now I am not so sure. Perhaps it is not the Light at all. Perhaps it is all psychosomatic, and my husband was a lucky distraction from the voices. Perhaps the only thing keeping their voices in my mind is my own desire to hear them.

Perhaps it has all been me.

We will find out, I suppose. I will remain home until Nazshakul summons me to search for the relic assigned to us by Baern. I hope that Vicailde will have returned by them. I worry for him, his lack of faith. I know little of how the Light works, but I know that it suits him and that it gives me hope. I only wish that my own faith in him could make his trial easier, but I know that it will not. 

For now, I will attend to Damian and try to be a good mother. At least until I can leave again.

I miss the screaming already.

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Journal Entry 2

It has been over a year since I have decided to write in this thing. How very sad! It is a pretty journal, and I have had such adventures. Imagine me, never even writing down any of them, even as I traveled to Argus and aided my friends against the Legion. How many things have occurred since I wrote this first entry?

- I allowed Damian to train with Qabian. What a disaster! He learned a lot, certainly, but at some point Qabian's ego got the better of him and he put Damian in life threatening danger. Even he thought Damian was killed and in my rage I removed one of his limbs. Damian was, of course, fine. So we have all learned a valuable lesson.

- With the help of my friends, I was able to obtain my soul and defeat the demon my mother made a deal with so long ago. I am now fully whole, though the idea is still strange and the curse of my eyes remains. What, if any changes this will make to my personality, are yet to be seen.

- During the ceremony in which I retrieved my soul, my dear subordinate Corvallis, as well as Helnia, were lost to us. I miss them both dearly, but Damian took it the hardest. I believe he and Corvallis bonded quite a bit, and I have promised to try and find him. 

- The guild is moving. We will no longer have a place in Dalaran, but in Razor Hill, Shattrath, and Ashtotem. This makes very little difference to me, but I do enjoy Shattrath! It brings back a lot of happy memories from the war in Outland. Imagine, happy memories and war!

- Still no word from my large friend who was hidden with us for some time. I imagine he is somewhere out in the world, making trouble. Always so serious, that one. I do miss him.

- Since bonding with my little soul, my memories have been a bit jumbled. Everything is coming back to me, especially with reminders, but a few things remain fuzzy. I have the strangest feeling that I am forgetting something important, but so far nothing has been made clear. 

- I have had the strangest craving for sparkling white wine, lately. Not at home, of course. I will have to find someone to share a bottle with. Maybe brunch?

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So now we have a tentative plan. Vicailde is working on some sort of device, I have not asked him for the details. We are going to travel again, to that awful alternate world, and find Corvallis and Helnia. Yes, the Bronze will likely be displeased. Yes, we could be punished for all eternity. The entire situation sounds insane, and really, what do we gain from it? A demon, and a man so loyal to me he was willing to give his own life. Am I really willing to do the same? I suppose we will see. What of Damian, though? I might have to insist that Vicailde stay behind. He will fight me on it, but I can not risk leaving him an orphan. Not again. My little flesh puppet did not work as expected and I will not go down that path again. 

Everything else has been rather quiet. I hear there is going to be some kind of conflict regarding azurite. Steinburg still has not returned from his visit to Undercity. I am tempted to find him there, but I was informed that he is now working as a bookkeeper for the Desolate Council. Apparently some of their members were lost. That seems a shame to me, considering Silvermoon has its own government and council, I would not doubt that Undercity could very much be in need of their own governing body. I am proud of Steinburg for lending a hand, of course. I do hope he is alright.

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