Sondre came to see me this morning.
Not the Caravan Master.
Just Sondre.
He entered quietly while I was still staring at the fox mask on the table.
For a moment neither of us spoke.
Then he told me something I wish he had never said.
He said the mask now belongs to me.
No.
Worse.
He said it is now part of me.
I asked him what that meant.
Sondre answered calmly, as if discussing weather.
He said I would age far slower than ordinary humans now.
He admitted he did not know how much slower.
Only that it would happen.
Then he added another thing.
Something somehow even worse.
He said with this mask in my possession, every Moonfen Sister in the world would show me respect.
He spoke as though this was a blessing.
A reward.
Something valuable.
And suddenly—
Something inside me snapped.
I shouted at him.
Loud enough my throat still hurts now while writing this.
“If this is true then what am I now?!”
Before I even realized it, my hand had already grabbed the nearest object beside me.
The Wand of Yggdra.
The stupid branch I bought because I thought I could learn little tricks and impress Ryn someday.
The same reflex again.
Just like during the bandit attack months ago.
No thinking.
Only movement.
I raised it to throw—
—and a spark appeared.
A real spark.
A small burst of fire from the tip of the wand.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But it existed.
I know it existed.
Because when I looked toward Sondre—
He looked just as shocked as I was.
Silence followed.
A long silence.
Then Sondre quietly said:
“Maybe.”
Maybe?
Maybe?!
Screw you, Sondre.
I remembered the dragon scale immediately after that.
The mark on my arm.
The Flesh Bargain beneath Drakenspire.
He knew.
He had known something was changing long before I did.
And he still brought me along as Chronicler anyway.
Without warning me what might happen afterward.
Asshole.
That word felt strange to write.
I do not think I have ever cursed properly inside this journal before.
This is no longer observation.
No poetic reflection.
No careful storytelling.
This is anger.
Pure anger.
Sondre knows things.
And he chooses silence every single time.
Now look at me.
I am cursed.
Slower aging?
What kind of life is that supposed to become?
Am I meant to remain trapped in the body of a young woman while everything inside slowly rots with time?
To watch everyone disappear one by one?
To become another thing wandering this world pretending to still be human?
I told him I wanted to leave.
Truly leave.
I said I would travel with the caravan only until the next coastal region if possible.
Then I would return home.
Back to my family.
Back to the DeLunas.
I told him I was done with all of this.
Done with becoming witness to things humans were never meant to see.
I said I only wanted to become what a DeLuna should be.
A storyteller.
Someone who tells stories that already exist.
Nothing more.
When I said this, Sondre did not look surprised.
Not even slightly.
He simply nodded.
Calm as always.
Then he said:
“You can.”
A pause.
“But you won’t.”
And then he left.
Just like that.
No argument.
No manipulation.
No attempt to stop me.
Only certainty.
At the time I wanted to hate him.
Maybe I still do.
But now…
While writing this…
I realize the worst part is not that he said those words.
The worst part is that he is right.
I can stop anytime I want.
I truly can.
Yet when I imagine leaving—
Something inside me immediately resists.
Because this man…
This human…
Believes I can endure all of this.
Not because he wishes to sacrifice me.
Not because he wants to use me.
But because he genuinely believes I am capable of walking further.
And somehow…
I cannot bring myself to hate someone for believing in me sincerely.
Even when I desperately want to.
Because what the Caravan Master said…
Was only the truth.
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