Sycaday, 10th Beginning of Spring, 1087

I told Flaern I'd sleep for a week, but I can't sleep at all.  I can't stop remembering... I can't tell what has really happened in the last four days, and what didn't happen at all.  I'm scared.


Silly of me to be afraid, now that I'm healing, now that death's touch has left me, but I am.  It wasn't real, before.  Dying was as much a figment of my imagination as papa ranting and raving at me, telling me he was going to kill me for killing mama.  Papa adores me.  He'd never dream of letting me be hurt.


Funny thing is, that's why I was here in the first place.  If he'd just not worried about the demons and the way they always mass in Darkfall, if he'd not sent me to this horrible city this year, I'd not have been sick at all.  Still, if he'd not, I wouldn't have seen Flaern again, or Dayne, and it warms my heart to know I've two such wonderful friends in this city of strangers.


They've both been acting oddly though, haven't they?  Dayne's been pacing about like a caged beast and Flaern... I can't remember him ever being this withdrawn.  Is it the illness, then, that had them so worried or something else, I wonder?


Oh well.  I'm quite confident that, whatever it is, I'll get it out of them sooner or later.  Neither of them has proven any good at keeping secrets from me.


I only hope they can keep the truth of what happened this week from Papa's ears.  The Gods themselves only know where he would send me next year, if he even got wind that I'd been so close to dying.


I do miss him so, and pray he is well.