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Aeryn Valeria Roderick Journal Page : 19

I think I finally understand where Miss DeLuna’s storytelling comes from.

This morning, after breakfast, we sat quietly in the kitchen while sunlight entered softly through the windows.

The house was calm.

Warm.

Almost painfully ordinary.

Miss DeLuna was reading again near the table while her mother repaired a tear on her robe from when it got caught on a tree branch during one of our walks.

At first I barely paid attention.

Lady Deluna simply hummed quietly while sewing.

But after several minutes, I realized I had unconsciously memorized every word.

“I weave my thread with steady care,
No fear can fray what I prepare.
Each choice I make, each truth I bind,
Becomes the strength within my mind.
With patient hands and spirit clear,
I shape the path that draws me near.
By will and wisdom, calm and true,
I weave the life I’m walking through.”

The melody sounded ancient.

Soft.

Like a fairy tale whispered to children beside a fireplace hundreds of years ago.

Afterward I asked Miss DeLuna whether it came from some old folklore book.

She looked confused.

Then said she had never heard it before either.

Apparently Lady Deluna simply does things like this sometimes.

“Mother’s kind of odd,” she explained casually.

“I think that’s why Father fell in love with her.”

And somehow…

At that moment everything about Miss DeLuna suddenly made sense.

Not intellectually.

Emotionally.

For the first time since arriving here, I felt homesick.

Not for Port Roderick.

For Mommy.

Lately I have been speaking with Miss DeLuna much more often.

She seems better now.

Not fully recovered from Yggdra.

But lighter.

More like herself again.

She also consulted her parents regarding the white fox mask given by the First Veil.

Surprisingly, even Lord Deluna appeared uncertain.

He admitted that whatever the mask represents may fall outside the knowledge preserved by Isla de la Luna entirely.

Not because it is secret.

But because it belongs to something older.

Something mystical rather than historical.

He promised he would still investigate it personally.

Which honestly feels more reassuring than most royal guarantees I have heard in my life.

Miss DeLuna also apparently asked her mother for advice.

Lady Deluna’s response was:

“Then just live longer and collect more stories.”

According to Miss DeLuna, her mother also said she would like one of the masks herself because her lower back has started hurting recently.

I am beginning to suspect this family survives existential horror through humor.

Disturbingly effective humor.

Another important development:

Miss DeLuna has decided to return to the mainland with me.

I do not know whether this decision came from her own heart or from whatever conversation occurred between her and Lord Deluna afterward.

But we will apparently leave soon.

From there we will travel east toward Dunskar and wait for the Caravan Master.

Strangely…

The moment she told me this, I felt relieved.

Far more relieved than I expected.

About the papers:

The terror seems to have stopped.

No new documents have appeared recently.

Which should make me feel better.

Instead, my hallucinations have become increasingly specific.

I continue seeing figures resembling Spathian from a distance.

Always wearing black robes.

Always speaking casually with members of the black robe council.

Even the High Elves seem familiar with him.

Students greet him naturally.

Teachers appear exhausted by him in ways that feel deeply authentic.

Which is precisely why it cannot possibly be him.

Absolutely impossible.

I refuse to discuss this further.

I do not know exactly when we will depart.

According to Miss DeLuna, we have already seen most of the island.

Except the crypts.

Which I intend to preserve as a lifelong achievement.

Honestly…

I still do not understand this place.

I understand the words.

The explanations.

The structures.

But not the island itself.

It is beautiful.

That is the only conclusion I can confidently write.

And lately I have been writing less often.

At first I thought it meant I was no longer stressed.

Now I suspect the truth is worse.

I think I am becoming accustomed to it.

And strangely…

That frightens me more than anything else here.

Because eventually I will need to leave this island.

Eventually I will need to become Aeryn Valeria Roderick again.

And lately…

I am no longer certain I remember how.

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