Arianna looked over the small chamber for the last time. The walls were now bare, and the few favors that had decorated it now packed neatly into bags and boxes. She looked through the open doorway to the hall, slinging the freshly polished blade that was all that remained of the past across her back. She looked down at the words, ink still wet, before closing the small leatherbound book tightly.

Kythorn 19,

I had hoped that he would come to say goodbye to me in person. After all, I have much to thank him for. He has given me a life, a home, and a dream, when he had owed me nothing. The hard years of my childhood in the dank pits of Orog slavery, and the endless dark days to avoiding notice and pain in the streets of Lower have taught me that nothing is free, and yet still nothing had ever been asked. I know it was foolish to believe that he really cared. Perhaps I will never know why, but as I take up the last of my belongings and make these steps towards the gates from the Estate, I find myself feeling at once hopeful and regretful.

What would Melinda do? She’d stow that hesitant attitude and march right out there. So I’ll march. ==============================================================

Kythorn 23,

I returned to Lower for the first time since I was saved from it. I hadn’t taken two steps into their filth before I encountered the sight of two good men cleaved and bloodied and left for dead in the street. Henderson Tubbs and some other fellow I’ve never met. A beggar told the tale of these two men making a stand against a rabid pack of druids from the Mycopolis, and being cut down in the process.

The beggar was sure impressed by their bravery. Not impressed enough to lift a finger to help them, which isn’t surprising. Cowards and thieves, brigands and gangers, barbarians and wildmen. I despise that place more and more every time I think of it. I despise that I was once one of them.

What’s worse is that every day, more of their rabble trample their way to upper, and nobody seems to care. Filthy, dirt covered druids, and sweaty shirtless barbarians mill about in our streets toting weapons and scaring the good folk of town, and I am the one who gets dirty glances when I say anything about it!

I wish they would all just crawl back down into their hole and stay there.

What would Melinda do? She’d push them right over the edge [Arianna smirks as she writes this, but scratches it out] She’d give them all a taste of her blade, hopefully ensorcelled with a good little bit of lightning to remind them they aren’t welcome. I think I’ll have to wait on that.

============================================================== Kythorn 25,

I’ve been running regular salvages, and I’ve put together quite a crew! The most reliable of them goes by Imaro, and he’s been pretty much my right hand since I set out on my own. I’ve been toying around with the idea of asking him to go into business with me as, aside from his lecherous nature, he’s been a great help in getting our hands on the tools I’ll need. ==============================================================

Arianna lays quietly atop the bed in her new room at the Last Stand. The glowing orb in the corner fills the room with a pale, soft light, illuminating the pages as she scribbles in the journal. Her face is a mask of excitement, as she writes.

Kythorn 27,

I’ve finally done it! I found the courage to tell the Spellguard that I want my robes! The interview was nothing short of hellish, and I think I perspired to the point of making my blouse nearly translucent. I was nothing like myself, I stumbled over even simple words.

I’ve been waiting for this day for five years, ever since I first laid eyes on her: Sword in hand, rushing towards the unseen enemy with steely eyes and crackling with the sheer power of her mighty sorceries! I won’t delude myself into thinking that I’ve only wished to be only in part similar to her. I can now admit that I have wanted nothing short of being her. I know that’s a long way away, but I can’t help but seethe with anticipation.

Oh, Great Gods, I hope I haven’t fouled it up, though. I must admit that I never expected to be beaten in the duel, and coupled with the poor performance I gave in the interview!? What if they won’t consider me? How can I impress Melinda if I can’t even get into the Spellguard?

No, that simply can’t happen. I will simply have to redouble my efforts to impress, after all, I do have a lot to offer! Positive thinking, positive thinking. He says I have a chance, still, but only if I pass the test. I simply have to pass it, whatever it may be.

What would Melinda do? Bloody well prepare.

Arianna's eyes are wide with an expression that is at once confused and shocked as she slowly meanders from the Serena Tower back to the Last Stand. She fails to acknowledge anyone or anything on her way, passing by Rak without even a nod and slowly ascending the stairs to her room.

She pushes her way in and closes the door soundly, pressing the locking lever switch without even glancing at it. With a flop she falls, face first, onto her bed.

She then rolls to her back and sits up, perched on the end of the bed, pulling off her once pristine blue boots, now drenched in blood, sickeningly reeking of copper. Her hands are still shaking as she drops each to the floor, considering them in somber quiet.

Arianna reaches to the bedside table and tugs the blue and white book to herself, still open to the Entry marked "Kythorn 27," and she begins writing directly beneath it.

Kythorn 27, cont'd

At the time, I was so certain. Or perhaps I was simply too afraid to be uncertain. Now, I am not certain...What have I done?

What would Melinda have done? I have no idea.

Flamerule 2,

Bright Side: I'm a member of the Spellguard, like I have always wanted to be. The first time I pulled on these robes (admittedly they fit a bit too tightly in a few areas) I couldn't help but be overwhelmed with a sense of accomplishment and hope. I wanted to stomp right out into the city and start making a difference! But things have turned out to be so much more complex and difficult than I had ever imagined.

I'm staring at this reflection, this crimson and black clad girl is watching me behind it. She looks so tired, and so world weary. I can tell from looking at her that she hasn't gotten enough sleep for some time. And I can tell she's been crying. Who can blame her? The world seems to be content to crucify her for the spite they feel to others. I'm looking for the hope that used to be plain as daylight within her. I can't see it, but I won't let myself believe it's no longer there.

Everyone seems to want to butt heads. The Watch, the Seekers, The Spellguard, The Council. Everyone is talking and yet not a single person is listening, except me. And no one cares what I think. Hey, everyone, I have an idea! Let's just forget what's best for everyone and hate each other! Isn't that a great idea!

What is worse, is I cracked like an egg in front of the Watchmen. Nobody missed it. Gods, I must have looked so foolish and so pathetic. I just hope that the others don't hear about this...I can just imagine what they'd say.

What would Melinda do? Keep her eye on the ball. Do her job, and try her best to circumvent the obstacles.