A New Home
Second Year from the Scar, August
Dante was right - I was never going to survive this place on my own.
The ship I had boarded was bound for Novus, a mining colony on the outskirts of the Empire. We had made it to our destination - after squidlings slaughtered everyone aboard, save for myself and a pirate named Jaques. This place is ... not unfriendly. If anything, they've been incredibly accomodating; it seems they haven't seen one of my kind in some time.
I've been all but taken in by an orc named Azuk. He's a member of a guild here, called the 'Chair Crew'. They're led by the same man who leads the Church of Azrael, a Scar-born named Valamir. They seem keen to hone by healing magic - which I don't think I'm opposed to at all.
My Lady, the Crow, likes this place. She says it has potential.
Lessons in Forgiveness
Second Year from the Scar, September
This has not been a good month for me.
I woke up in the woods, surrounded by a cacophony of crows. I tried to get back to sleep, but I couldn't shake the feeling She was watching me.
I continue learning pf rituals resurrection from Mishang, a kindly wildfolk who has been eager to pass down the knowledge he holds. He's asked me to take care of the Dwarven Circle - a sacred duty that, if mishandled, could result in my death for heresy. No pressure or anything.
I have, for the first time, seen another dryad. We found her on the outskirts of town, bloodied and weak. She explained that there was a man - an enchanter named Silas - who was... harvesting our kind.
Their mangled corpses hung in the trees. I have never known my people to be so many in number. Even in the Scar, amid the rare copse of plant matter, for all the years I wandered there... I do not know if I will ever see so many dryads in one place again.
Valamir says we should forgive the man; as any true Azraelite should! But... looking into that man's eyes, I know he would slaughter me the first opportunity he could. Halfgur, a satyr and the sherriff of this place, wants to see him dead.
Forgiveness is good. Redemption is good. However, I cannot help but despise that I'm being asked to do this - to forgive a man who has slaughtered my people before I ever got to know them. Are there even any dryads left?
Danse Macabre
Second Year from the Scar, October
I met the Patch-Planter!
I remember stories of him from my Tree of Life; he was an ancient warrior, having fought against the demons when they first came to Aetheria and begun corrupting the Scar. And now he's here!
He took us to a pumpkin patch, far from town; there, he asked those willing to help him to step forward. A few of us did. He came to each of us, dragged his scythe across our necks, and pulled our bodies through the field. He revived us then, and gave us a sacred power in return for our service. He called it obliterate.
I did not understand the might of this power until I saw what it did to Valamir.
The first time, he came back - not through revival. The magic rended the soul beyond such simple things. The second, he did not.
When someone dies - truly dies, I mean - the spirits are sometimes kind enough to let their souls linger. I knew the paladin was dead, of course. I had grown to care for him deeply. He made me feel a way I had not felt since I had first met Dante - but I like to think I know better than to be so easily attached.
Still, when his Echo did not come to Novus, Azuk said he might've gone to my Circle; we raced through the darkness under the cover of moonlight to search through the Dwarven Sanctuary, but still, he was not there.
We saw him then, when we made our way back to the town. Azuk threw himself at him, but he merely phased through.
That was it, then. Valamir Elsinahl was dead.
I do not remember the next few hours, beyond the hollowness I felt in the pit of my stomach.
What I do remember is how cold he felt when his arms wrapped around me; how he smelled, earthy and sweet and rotting; the dull numbness in my branches fading into a euphoria I did not know I was capable of.
Valamir isn't ... dead. He died, yes. But Azrael seems to think he has some unfinished business.
We danced with death at Scorne's library, deep within the swamplands. It was my first time meeting the librarian. He said I was sincere.
The Kiss of Death
Second Year from the Scar, November
It's been a slow month. It's been a good month.
Bandits and brigands haunt the town, as usual. Late into the evening, in a moment of rest, Valamir pulled me behind one of the cabins, and took my hands.
"One of the things I miss most about being alive," he began, "is the feeling of another close to you. I want to ensure you do not take that gift for granted."
When he pulled me towards him, I couldn't help but laugh - one of his horns bumped into my cheek, his tail wrapping around my wrist loosely. He smiled, a little sheepish, a little cocky.
This month, Valamir Elsinahl kissed me.
Later that night, he held me close and whispered secrets to me; secrets of Novus, of the land the town was built upon, secrets of Azrael and Necros and Scorne - secrets that if I were to repeat, it would not be Valamir who killed me, but his gods.
Winter's Joy
Second Year from the Scar, December
Enyo, a paladin of Phanuel - Seraph of Light - made me a staff! It's gorgeous; a snail lives on it. His name is Henrique.
Oh! Right! And there were DEMONS EVERYWHERE. Rifts to the Scar opened up all across Novus, and demon hordes lead by the archfiend Krampus began to massacre the town. We were able to seal him away, but barely.
New Friends
Second Year from the Scar, Febuary
There's a new dryad in town! Her name is Maebh; her affinity is fungi. She's very sweet!
Sarka
Second Year from the Scar, March
A month of relative peace goes by, and then we are yet again plagued by the fiends.
We found cultists of Jacob guarding a strange book with eyes and teeth. The book, once touched, revealed itself to be sentient; it was seeking someone who did not follow a Seraphim. Despite Valamir's attempts to turn me to the ways of Azrael, I have stayed true to the spirits and archfae I know. I took a particular interest in the Book, but Valamir forbade me from pursuing it further.
And yet it found its way into my bag. It chose me.
I wasn't good at hiding it. A group set out to retrieve the Book, and found it missing; jokingly, Valamir asked if I had it. My face went pale, and he knew before I even opened my mouth.
His name is Melathor, and he won't let me die. Believe me, Val tried.
Father of Rot
Second Year from the Scar, April
The Rot Father is not a fiend, but he is... something. There are those who believe him to be tied to the Alabastor King. Regardless, he is here, and he wants Melathor.
Val and I performed a ritual to commune directly with Melathor. He appeared to us as a towering knight made of paper and ink amid a vast, endless void of cosmos; there, he explained himself to be the Seraphim of Forgotten Knoweldge, locked away and hidden.
Valamir says that it was Melathor that corrupted Sarka - that the demon lord we fought just last month was once an ordinary woman who lost herself to the tempations of Melathor. That's why the Cultists of Jacob, another fiend, where guarding the Book so closely.
Inside him, Melathor contains detailed instructions on how to summon every archfiend. He was used to summon Sarka - perhaps even Krampus.
The more I read, the more mold grows from my chest. I feel better - stronger - than I ever have.
This isn't good.
The Seagrins
Second Year from the Scar, June
Melathor has been silent.
We have found a strange creature made up of children's dreams. They're called 'Seagrins'. They have buckets for shells and long beaks, and they're the most wonderful, horrid little creatures I've ever seen.
We have officially become independant from the Empire - not without kicking and screaming, of course. Vampires are real, and the brambles - the corrupted dryads studied by the genocidal enchanter - are a result of their sickness. Evidently, the Empire is chock full of the bloodsuckers.
The First Year
Third Year from the Scar, September
Since coming to Novus, I have learned from the best healer this side of the Empire; I have fallen in love; I have made friends and met people of all walks of life; I was in a revolution; I have faced down leviathan krakens and the lords of the Scar themselves.
The Crow clings to me, and I feel her grip tightening. Valamir says he may have a way to be rid of her, but that we should focus on Melathor first. I would be inclined to agree, but I've been doing well with the Book - I haven't read from him or sought his answers in any way.
Still, I love him; I will trust his judgement.
Heart at Stake
Third Year from the Scar, October
We found the source of the brambles; a Tree of Life was used to stake an ancient vampire long, long ago, trapping her deep beneath the soil with her sons to ensure she is kept captive. Her sickness rotted and polluted the tree. We believe that with her son's deaths, she may finally be at rest.
Eye for an Eye
Third Year from the Scar, November
Cecil, a Wanderer, devotee of Rastgrim, and friend of mine, lost his eye in a dark ritual dedicated to his Seraph. It seemed more akin to a ritual Melathor would want performed than a Seraph. It was ... brutal to watch.
Nuclear Chaos
Third Year from the Scar, December
Novus is gone. The Source Mines beneath the town became unstable and exploded, drenching the entire area in a sort of radiation and a fire that will never burn out. The people of Novus were lucky - a strange man with a lisp and airship happened to be in town just before everything went to hell.
The trees were so scared.
There is one comfort, at least. Silas, who has been ritualistically redeemed, died in the blast. Perhaps it is cruel of me, given my consent to let the man live in the first place, but it brings my soul some measure of peace knowing he is dead.
Truth, Illuminated
Third Year from the Scar, January
Valamir has reveleaed to the town what he revealed to me all those months ago: Necros is Azrael. The evil god of necromancy and corruption and the kindly spirit of redemption are, in truth, one and the same; not only that, but Necros himself took physical form, walked among the townsfolk - Scorne, the librarian, who revealed his nature to all. Valamir trapped his spirit within a crystal and shattered it. It is his new honor-bound duty to collect these Shards of Scorne to reassemble them and reintergrate Necros's spirit with Azrael.
This new place we have come to claim as ours is expansive. An abandoned elven laboratory sits, looming on a cliff's edge near here; I have taken a special interest in the Viridian wing.
OZ-WALD, an automaton paladin, has become a Paragon after sacrificing himself in a ritual to Pharah, Seraph of Love, to save his friend, Lamia. Lamia had become a Lich after falling for Scorne's temptations.
The Proposal
Third Year from the Scar, Febuary
Things have properly begun to calm down. Late at night, while the rest of the town slept, Val pulled me close to him. He asked me to marry him.
I've heard of weddings, but I'm not sure of what they entail. Valamir says it may be time to pay a visit to the Crow.
We have found a strange part of the Viridian Wing. The townsfolk call it the "glass onion". It's full of constructs that won't harm dryads but are intent on eradicating all other living things.
Marriage Rites
Third Year from the Scar, March
I do not remember the ceremony itself. It has been over a year since I stepped foot through one of the fiery rifts into my home plane; the scent of sulfur sat on my tongue, beckoning me towards Her with every step.
Val led me through the Scar as though he had walked this path a thousand times - perhaps he had. Perhaps we had always been closer than we thought; mere footsteps away from the people we would dedicate ourselves to. He led me home, to my Tree.
The Crow watched me, arcane purple glinting in Her beady eyes. "Come home," she crooned. "I've always loved you. Come home."
I watched as Valamir cut every branch of the Tree where She sat. I screamed as he lit infernal fire within Her trunk.
After that, I can only assume. I came through the Circle for the first time, encircled in Valamir's arms. Circling my finger was a thin, gold-gilded branch, set with a gem of swirling green - a final remnant of the blighted Tree that had nourished me.
Valamir has given me my Blossom name: Viridia Elsinahl.
The constructs from the glass onion have attacked the town. I ventured into the onion, alone, in an attempt to understand the constructs better. I believe they are more akin to dryads than they are different.
Valamir went away, to visit his own mother. I was elated to be his, finally and fully, but a strange weight sat in my chest. My garden began to wilt about a week into his journey, and I couldn't bring myself to leave my cabin. I'm struggling to bloom; my dreams have become full of static.