A Sacrifice - The Journal of Cethril Maires

[Calad]

In the dark corners of the gloomy trees, her heart would find the safety it sought

Amongst the Sullen Woods, gloved fingers would open the pages of a leather-bound journal, and under the dying torchlight, overwhelmed with nostalgia, eyes squinted behind a white mask read the first page.


The handwriting on the yellow, old page was wonky, the words scribbled down with the enthusiasm of a child.

"This! Is my first ever stolen thing. I was wandering around the market with mama. I've been telling her that I needed a journal to put my thoughts in but she refused. She said that I should keep them to myself. That papers weren't trustable, and that she wasn't going to buy it for me. So I stole it.

I think she was scared that I wouldn't be able to hide it well. We've been going to this place underground lately. She had mentioned it when I was younger that there was this man she wanted me to meet. I thought she meant my father. Some people call this man a father too. But he's not my father. They also call him Demark Demarch. We watched something there. My mama was praying too. Everybody wore masks and shiny dresses. Mum said this is where she was going once a month at night. She said I'll be coming with her from now on, that I was of age.


The man called Father asked to meet me. He said that I was cute. I like him. He was nice to me. He said that this.. mask thing was my destiny? I didn't understand what he said. How can a mask need my service? They told me I'd understand when I'm older. Mama seemed a bit sad. She told me not to tell anyone about this.

Anyways. I will keep this journal hidden from mum too. I bet she would be mad at me if she knew I went against her."

A small signature at the bottom, a nickname was jotted down.
"Ceth"

The fingers turned to another page. In between the first and the second, it seemed there used to be other pages, but they were ripped off. A few dozen perhaps.

The figure huffed at the torch to bring its dying light back to life, lowered her face more towards the journal, and kept reading.

to be continued

[Calad]

The writing on this page was more mature. Flat, lacking the enthusiasm of the first page. A lot of time seemed to have passed since the first page and this one, the middle lost to history, since the pages were destroyed.

"Tomorrow is the day. The day I have awaited all my life. This is surely going to be my last entry now.
A month ago, the branding process was complete. A forever-mark of my devotion. I have been warned that it would hurt and I shouldn't move, but I squirmed. The spike in the middle slipped and cut around my waist. The wound took some time to heal, they didn't use magic for it. It's something else that I will be carrying with me now. His Unseen Grace's symbol and the scar... forever.

For the past month I've been isolated, except two visitors. First, the Demarch. He has been very kind to me, and came to pray with me every other day.

The second was Keryth. I don't know how but he got some sort of permission to see me. I told the others that if I were to see him again I'd kill him. That bastard chose the time when my wound was the worst. He rambled on about goodbyes, and left. I think my only regret will be not having killed him.

Haven't seen mum since the branding. I don't care, anyways. She did her duty of bringing me to this world for our Lord, and now the task is almost finished, it's acceptable she wants to move on.

Tomorrow, I will be taken or killed by the shadows. No one knows what exactly will happen, it's only for me to see, they said. I can only hope that I've been trained well, and I can be a valuable asset to my Lord, with my unending service. I was scared at first... but not anymore. The darkness will protect me, dead or alive."

The sound of the turning page echoed in the calm, quiet night.

to be continued

[Calad]

The old, weathered down journal is returned to.

Was it these pages that haunted my vision?
The journal bleeding black; the words of my very soul embedded upon the atramentous pages.

I am forced to look back. And it has been a long time, since I did.

My ascension was interfered with, meddled. It made me furious. Then, I realized,

That it is HIS will. He knows, he watches. There is no other truth. I never belonged 'home' in the first place.

How could a world so dark as this one, not be His void?

I lost that ferocity. My hands threaded in its place; dedicated ambition. I found my separated piece, my birthright, and I welcomed it. I became one.

Then I got lazy. I was content. We were one, and that was enough.
How dare I. If I had met you Cethril, I'd destroy you.

There is no feeling of gaiety before the day comes that I join His silent dance. My ambition pathetic, dedication wavering, my soul growing plump, heavy, slow, weak... Didn't I see, that my completion wasn't a finality, but encouragement? Didn't I see, that it was a step to bring me deeper into His fold, not my blessed prize?
How could I lose my purpose?

Daljin saw His plan. Better than I did. The colours are long gone, my vision purified of blasphemy. The light banished from my being... the infesting rays of it left behind stick to me like carrion worms, leeches, and I'd bathe in fire to get rid of them; my test. Another step taken. The most beautiful thing is to be closer to His visage.

I lied so much, I lied so well. The facade I kept up, I started to fall for it myself.

"I am a good woman, ladies and gentlemen, I swear."

I didn't need to become lazy to support my lies... I had just needed to be smart. I sinned.

Sacha. Another step before me now, means to get to an end, do His bidding. He is useful, and I have been alone in my endeavours in a long time. His motivations are different, of course. Does it matter? I do not care. He does His bidding without knowing, and that's wonderful.

I'd raze the maze to the ground to reach you again, my Lord. Torch the flowers, gut the fish. My heart belongs to you, and so I will take pride.

((The handwriting becomes jankier.))

Will I be able to breathe like that again?
Will I join you in that dance?
I must.
I will.

I would do anything...
...no. I will do anything.

The City of Lights. What a grand sacrilege.

[Calad]

"Nearly a year past since, and I am tracing my own steps to find I have only gone in circles.

Small achievements that do not satisfy me.

Sacha... things changed, between us. He treated me well. With more kindness than I expected to receive, and by his words, love.

Something I could not return. Not yet.

Could he have been the one my tar-covered soul could warm up to?
Perhaps. But now he's behind bars- a mistake. I am in no position to aid him and to be frank... I don't know if I want to, either.

If he manages to wriggle his way out of this, my answer might be clearer. My arms would be wide open to welcome him, impressed.

If he perishes, then it means he could never have been.


Boss was, is, disappointed. A feeling I wholeheartedly share. I will not let it repeat. There's so much to grasp at... so much to possess, so much to earn. I could spend hours writing about the I should'ves, but that is futile. I know what I will. He will see that there's no better than I, in all of Dementlieu.


With my reformed friend by my side, Lord willing, this place will be harvested.
I will reach my full potential, purge this malady within me, become complete.


Démarchess... god, I love how that sounds."

[Calad]

And what a glorious massacre it was!

My lips ache, from the grin plastered upon my visage. Valstahd, my friend, you're a blessing from the Lord himself.

Nothing is more comforting than the soothing warmth of blood soaked solars against my skin.
The harvest is bountiful,

with my hands and his brawn, we shall get drunk on many more victories.

[Calad]

The game satisfies me.

Every string my fingers entwine with, a smile and a frown peppered in the right moments... my soul is fed.

Let them think they hold sway. Let them think I care.

"Don't think of betraying me, Mairés."

So proud...

Never force someone to do something when you can manipulate them into doing it and thinking the decision and the deed are entirely their own free willed work.

My dear, I don't have to do anything."

[Calad]

"He lied well.

But spoke too many truths.

Not only in front of the deciders of his fate, but in his life.

He was shackled to his verdict long before he stepped foot into that room.

"Honesty is for fools." says the Lord and once more I feel his wisdom and see its undeniable proof.

Am I sorrowful? No.

My regret only resides in losing a mind capable of so, so much more.

His trust resided in the wrong people. The wrong places.

It was amusing irony to watch these seekers of justice turn so easily to deceptions.
Incredibly see through, yet due to power wielded, unbreachable.

I commend the lies, but I am disappointed in just how many loose ends he left behind, every step of the way.

There's another day, to prove me wrong.

I feel however, it might just be better for me to move on, before I catch onto the sickness his heart is clutched by.

Kindness."

Trust only in the shadows, for the bright way leaves you out to be the target.

[Calad]

She was angry.

Not because he was to be beheaded, but because their plan failed.

Potential wasted...

...was she truly not angry over him?

It did not matter. She was angry, and she was spiteful.

If they were to take his head, she was going to take them all down with him.

They had placed the cannons appropriately, in the most perfect place, so easy...

A spark. Light.

Her eyes widened.

It was too easy.

The light trailed down towards the cannon.

Why would they have had aimed cannons at their own Palais?

It was too late.

The light burned bright, then brighter... all she could think was, had she lived a life worthy of her Lord?

And so she was angry, she was spiteful and... she was ash.

-FIN-