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Fatima's Diary
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reflections for the lost
11. The Great Divide
At night I still toss in dreams. Tonight I am driven to abandon sleep and write on these tattered pages. Twice I have fallen from great heights and had my possessions scattered around me; on the second fall, this books binding broke, and now all I have is a tightly wrapped roll of papers, held within my ink case, my pens and quill held within. I bleed out these thoughts onto parchment by the fading light of coals, their red flickering framing the page, if not the unintelligible writing upon it. There has been something building, working inside of me ever since I read the words within a strange tome held far beneath the earth. My dreams carry me back to that book, the one with metal plates for pages and a strange weave-wiring for binding.This tome seemed to speak to me of my fate; what paths down this life I would take. I can neither speak nor think any lie; my eyes did not deceive me. I read on, absorbing each page. My night-black hands cradled every page, framing the contents within my mind. I thought that perhaps by not writing of it, by not thinking of it, I would have its contents less in my mind. I would perhaps be able to escape my fate. I read that my unnatural luckiness would manifest itself fully as some kind of innate magical well. With my right foot, I am to follow my Guardian in becoming a soceress, someone who can touch the Else and guide its tide to her will. I also discovered that I was to place my left foot also down my father's path. I am to become an assassin.
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