Biara's Journal- Entry 1

*A journal lies next to a bed made of a straw mattress with some furs over it. It is a simple book, purchased from a local merchant and non-magical in nature. It is unwarded, and can easily be read by anyone who happens to be in that particular orphanage. The only person likely to see it is Alanth No'telyle. The first pages have been filled with Biara's elegant handwriting.*

They are all dead, and it might as well be by my hand. I cannot help but feel this way, even though Alanth has told me to put such thoughts aside. He is right, for I must concentrate on the tasks at hand, on surviving, in order to make up for all that has happened. I fear though that it is not so simple to cast guilt aside, or to look at my reflection and not see the disaster I have wrought.

We have been hiding now for a day. He's lead me to an orphanage which he said his father heavily warded from magical scrying. His estimate was correct, and even I, knowing the wards are there, cannot penetrate them. It is a safe house, for a time. But how can I feel safe now?

I have spent much of the first day quietly weeping. I fear that this will make Alanth think less of me, and I have tried to keep it quiet and to myself, but we share a single room here, and he must know. I cannot stop however. I cannot breathe for even a moment without remembering all of those who were lost. I hold this amulet in my hands; the amulet I had enchanted to watch over my daughter Astariel. It is dead and lifeless now, just as she is and it breaks my heart every time my fingers run across its cracked surface. She didn't deserve to suffer for my foolishness. None of them did.

I cannot help but wonder about the man who saved me, the one to whom I owe my very life. Why did Alanth choose to rescue me? He lost so much, and he must have known that his beloved was dead even before he fought his way to the top of the tower. Why did he come back for me of all people, the one person who least deserved to survive that night? I will never know, because I can't peer into the depths of his thoughts, and I can't ask him again, not now. Not when we've lost so much.

We are trapped in close quarters here, within this tiny room. Alanth leaves from time to time, going out to check on the situation within the city and seeking to get us passage safely out of Silvermoon. I cannot use my magic to do it, as my mother would track the spells to this place, and to me. She would find where we were going and she would hunt us. I cannot bring that danger down on anyone, it is mine alone to bear.

But it seems it is NOT mine alone, for Alanth stays by my side. Again I ask why. I watch him and study his strength. This is his element, his world. He said as much to me, but the words did not do justice to what I witness with my eyes. In this part of the city the wrong words can result in a lethal fight, and yet he never speaks the wrong words. He never looks discomforted, afraid, or even concerned. I know that he is though. I can hear him in the night, mourning his beloved. My heart breaks for him as well, because it is my fault that he weeps silently, it is my fault that his strength is pierced by this weakness.

When he speaks to me though, it is with confidence to see me through this crisis. He knows how to survive, and I think, when looking at him, that he will overcome even the wreckage that my actions have wrought on him. He has overcome so much adversity, it is clear to me now from the determination in his eyes that everything I have experienced is but a small drop compared to his vast knowledge of the world. I can only take hope and be inspired by what I see in him, even as everything else falls to ruin around me. I will still never forgive myself for wounding him though, for he has shown his true metal, and his heroism will never be forgotten for as long as I live. I still often wish he had left me to die though.

And so my thoughts swirl, confused and bitter. I wait here, my life over and yet so much life left. What am I now? Who am I? Did Biara Dayfire die yesterday? Is there anything left of her? I do not even look the same anymore, for Alanth has forced me to dye my hair black in order to avoid my mother's hunters from finding us. I have new wounds on my body which will scar over in time, but they are nothing compared to the scars on my heart.

I am not the Lady Biara Dayfire. I am not Magistrix Dayfire. I am simply Biara, now. Simply a fool who learned her lesson far far too late.