Selenwe's Journal

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By Selenwe


By Syrabane's ring, what have I done?

My dearest sister—the little sprite with pigtails who chased me through the flower gardens on Sundas afternoons. The soft-hearted girl with the singing voice of a meadow lark—fallen to a necromancer's charms. I can scarcely believe it. What did we do to earn this? What spirits did we offend? If only I'd been here. If only I'd stayed. This is all my fault.

Something had to be done. Practicing necromancy is an unforgivable sin. I pleaded with her to repent, or beg for the Direnni Clan's mercy. But she persisted. She looked into my eyes with a dull, flat-eyed stare and said, "They cannot kill me, sister. I cannot be killed. I will rise again, and again, and again, for all eternity." All the kindness and gentle innocence was gone. In that moment, I barely recognized her.

So I performed the ritual. I bound her to the sarcophagus. I shouted the words of binding, and kindled the sacred flames. Then I wept beside the tomb, listening to her froth and wail until she finally fell silent.

I only hope that Lauriel's spirit can find peace here in the acropolis, because she cannot leave. She can never leave. Auri-El forgive me, for I will never forgive myself. Never.