May 13th-

I have witnessed a most delightful surprise. Through good fortune and joyous gods, a new arrival to my castle marks a change. The loss of my dearest, the claiming of this new stead, it left me with a strange drive but a hollow spot that I can not shake. This void has felt itself wearing though, as a creature of remarkable beauty and charm has found itself to me. A distant relation to those that have left me for greater and longer days beside the gods. I think, though, of what was spoken of her master. She has renounced the twisted soul inside the foul creature that owned her. On some part I find myself lost, on a path, that my heart refuses to abandon.

May 17th-

She wanders through the halls, is most quiet as well. When few words she does say though, her voice is soft but firm. She speaks like that of a noble whom has wisdom and patience. Like an angel's chorus, her words, they touch my essence. Her complexion of that of a soft natural cream, Her body blessed with the gentle maiden curves. A desire burns in me and haunts my action and inaction alike. I see it in her eyes though, so dark but piercing. Nearly foreign to her soft features, her kindness in her face, the bit of rose to her cheeks as she accepts my gratitude and hospitality. With me she will know peace from that which haunts her past.

May 24th-

Away she left for a short time, taking in the drink of my followers. She came back with a haze in her face, but those eyes, distracted and foggy as they were, still pierced. She has been so gentle and receded to my servants and I, that to see her deep in a drink, comes as a surprise. Perhaps simply her life returning to her after some time? She grows more nervous though I can see, but to me. Guilt touches her soul? Or a pain I can not see, as she fights it to no avail. I shall press her, to let her mind be open to me, and mine to her. Alone we are weak, but with one another we may build away from the ashes of our past, and from that, see light once more.

June 2nd-

She is absent most frequently in the morning meals, resting her head longer into the day. Since the tavern she has grown in ways I did not believe, but perhaps as a sign that the Gods have blessed her to be in the most hast of recoveries. Perhaps new thoughts run through her veins, revitalizing them as the poison is replaced. It can be frightful though. In most odd times she seems to have grown more backbone than I believed her to be capable of carrying. A meager servant had the audacity to stand before this precious creature I gave refuge to, and let out the passing whispers of dispassion. Beckoning her to admit to being the wicked thing for which her master had been. I expected at once, an emotional response, of bitter tears as I saw her let slip only on the rarest of occasions, seemingly from the tormenting of her own memories. The response she gave was of anger and fury. Her voice did not raise but her brow lowered, her eyes striking through him. She said, to my closest interpretation from memory, "My past is of design outside my hands, my future is aloof, but if you dare to claim knowledge of it, or a power over my being, then perhaps to remove this, and you in turn, is the kindest thing I can do for myself." She seemed of stern mind with the distant threat, seemingly foreign to her appearance, but her eyes promised this was so. Those piercing eyes.

June 12th -

Distant as ever, I was told, by him who I hold in high regards as my daily affairs keeper, of her nights. She had been venturing away, to a place just outside my walls. She has been gone for large parts of the night. This pulls at the strings of my heart. Is this of keeping to her own rituals of meditation? For what does one venture out for at night? I will request upon my servant to find me in the latest evenings, when the darkness has settled and good has retracted to rest with the sun, and to wake me.

To those who find this, know of the blackness in the heart of those guided by evil and hatred, the old cretin in robes, as he has possessed her. She follows to him at night, and plays whimsically for him as soft lights dance before her. She stands, bare and cold to the night sky, as he remains with his hands raised to her. The sickly fool and the lost soul, we shall rid them both, for his redemption and her peace.