Talia, p. 10

Has it been so long since I last picked up a quill??

A dark cloud has fallen over my fair city today. Outside the gates I witnessed a man being sentenced by the War Wizards to be branded as a ‘dangerous caster of magiks’. His send to the city stated as much as well. The arcane does not seem as welcome as it once was. Few speak of their training in the open these days. I wonder how long it will be before all who are gifted or study are labeled as ‘dangerous’, and are either branded or driven out of the city. I used to find the market a wonderful place to pour over scrolls; somehow the noise actually helps me to focus more clearly on the text. But the times are uneasy, every sidelong glance, each accusing eye, leaves me wondering if a guard will be coming around the corner, this time for me. Now… now, I am afraid to cast in the privacy of the inn, or in the workshop at the loom.

My scrolls now lay safely packed, at the bottom of a box… for now I live in silence, as tailor and archer only. I can’t help but wonder if this is why Matt never returned to the city. I miss my mentor, and teacher. I hope he is well.

(*ink trails off*)