Now I know why Father does not mind the simple, calm life. Now I know what I gave up, abandoned, and left behind me.

The others are dead: Jack, Destia. Killed when we fell into the trap, they wouldn't let themselves be captured. Faulk caught a horrible sickness during our time in slavery and never recovered. Linus--a bolt to the back when we took the chance to escape--when I escaped.

I don't know what happened to my old journal. But I found a new one to write in.

Along with a city in the Underdark.

Sanctuary... A quaint metaphor.

I want to write more, but my want for knowledge of this place outgrows it with every second I am here.

Father. I thought of him as such a boring man, I could not even imagine how he managed to gain the interest of my mother. From dusk to dawn, he stood guard beneath the third arch on the left side of the atrium in the Waterdhavian Temple of Lathander in Waterdeep, day after day. Somehow he managed to convince me to join the same order as he, but luckily I decided just before I made my final commitment that I wanted more excitement and adventure in my life.

I wasn't really lucky after all. The past three months has shown me what my father had. And what made him content: safety, comfort, a calm well-being. Those are the things my father had. Those are things I realized I had sacrificed during my time as a slave to the Drow.

This city might just be my chance to gain some of those things back. Even if for just a fleeting moment. I spent hours in the library and book shop, reading what I could of the city's history and past. Sanctuary has been on the brink of total destruction and utter annihilation so many times but it still continues to survive.

How? The only answer I can think of is the people. Sanctuary's good people. My first few hours within the city I spent with a man named Vaeran Maerra. He not only welcomed me in such a way that reminded me of my life on the surface, but he had shown me around the city. Yes. There is safety, comfort, and calmn among the good people of Sanctuary.

I just realized. Now that I no longer need to worry about cruel slave masters singling me out for any reason, maybe I should start letting my feathers grow out.

Vaeran has the idea I have some drops of celestial blood in me. Well, that certainly would explain quite a bit. A warrior of Savras named Jocelyn Reynolds that I worked with, when I explained the idea to her, seemed to instantly latch on to the idea.

"A sign of better times," she said. I wonder if it is true, but--well, it just feels true.

I had a conversation with a young, quiet man named Snyder. The poor soul seemed so lonely and dejected by himself in the Stand I couldn't resist saying at least a few words with him. I ended up learning quite a bit about him; about how he feels of the Underdark and the city. It seems I am right, or at least not the only one, in thinking that Sanctuary embodies its name. Even if it is just a rest stop for people whose true goal is to seek the surface.

Even if the surface is the true goal, Sanctuary itself as a permanent city is important though, isn't it? As long as the drow, behohlders, illithids, and any other slaving race exist, as long as the Underdark exists, there will always be slaves and slaves looking for an escape. Sanctuary is needed. Not just to guide them out, but to give them respite.

I also asked Snyder about what he thought of the Spellguard. They're a large, prominent organization within the city and it seems they are not entirely liked. Snyder thinks they are bent on trying to take over the whole city and, considering their powers, I can imagine why people would think that. I also did some work with one of their agents, Akhil Ramana. If his personality and demeanor in anyway represents that of the organization, why they're so disliked is even more clear. Hopefully that's not the case. If it is, maybe it can change. Not just the people's perception of the Spellguard, but the Spellguard itself. Perceptions, as twisted and wrong as they may be, are still based off of something.

I was present at the town hall when the results of the councilor elections were announced. I worry that the people of this town only care about money and bloody entertainment.

Many of the books I've read in the library were written by Adelia Tyrell. I decided I would risk a trip to Lower to visit her in the Shrine of Ascension. We had a pleasant conversation where she mostly told me about herself and her history within the city.

She seems to be one that would prefer finding a way to the surface over establishing Sanctuary as a permanent, secure city. I disagree with her in regards to that, but I still think she embodies my idea of Sanctuary to an extent.

She has hope and determination. She is absolutely filled with it. And without this city, if she was forced to constantly wander the Underdark without any moments of rest and peace, would she--anybody--be as determined and hopeful as her? Or would anyone in that situation be driven mad by the darkness?

This city, one way or another, inspires her. And now, it seems, she's inspired me. It has been a while since I have taken up the brush, not since I've left Waterdeep. But perhaps now would be a good time as any to reacquaint myself with canvas. The local environs and buildings within and around this city could also prove to be interesting subjects.

I've noticed there's a lot of empty space on the walls of the Stand on the upper floors. Perhaps Rak would allow me to liven things up a bit in the Stand.

A very social day today. Acquainted myself with the seemingly growing House Fireheart which seems to be truly blessed by Sune. Edgar is a truly entertaining gentleman. I'm glad that Sune has some followers within this city, hopefully this base will allow me to successfully spread her light and beauty within this city.

Also was able to hold a lengthy conversation with Councilor Wyric. A good man so it seems. Wyric realizes that some compromises of safety are required to ensure the highest amount of safety possible. That is, trade with kobolds and duergar. It makes sense. But how exactly is the amount of safety sacrificed by one compromise compared to others? At least he does have the safety of the city at heart.

I have, thus far, submitted two literary works to the Sanctuary library. I hope to be able to create art beyond the medium of literature soon, however. I'm somewhat disappointed that I've not yet heard back from Rak or Adelia, but they are busy people.

It is now the First of Hammer, the First day of the One Hundred and Fifty Third year of Sanctuary. A new year. A new life for me here in Sanctuary.

Despite how blessed it is, it appears House Fireheart is without its trouble. The young Clara Fireheart's engagement to Kyle has been long and seemingly problematic. I do and will continue to do what I can to mediate between the two. But I fear that both Clara and Kyle might not be able to make adequate compromises for each other and may need to find love some where else. Regardless, this will not be known until the two face each other and bare their fears to one another.

I continue to spend my time attempting to socialize as much as possible. If I seek to do good for this city I will need better relationships with the forces that are primarily responsible for it.

I have had little luck with the Spellguard it seems. I met one pleasant agent but the others I have met seem socially unhinged. At least I have had much more pleasant experiences with the Associates. It makes me wonder if arcane skill--power created and taken, not gifted to one as in the case of divine spell casters--has some sort of megalomaniac affect on people. Actually, that is a terrible thing for me to say. I have might many wizards down here who are of a more sociable disposition.

Among the Seekers I have managed to at least introduce myself to a decent number of them: Dawn, Toman, Airandir. Even though their focus is not and beyond the city, it is still clear the Seekers play a key role within a city and greatly affect it.

I have unfortunately not have had a chance meet with anymore councilors. And I've had little interaction with the Watch as the streets appear to be dominated by Private Sten's presence.

I have also heard much of the New Dunwarren groups. The Greycloaks are of particular interest, but I have not met any that I am aware of. Those of the Society of the Ordered Mind, however, I am glad to say appear small in number. I have read their texts and find it extreme and zealous. Almost morally compromising.

I should also look to speak with these Mithrilsouls dwarves. They appear to be a force to be reckoned with and, from what I have read and heard, they have good intentions for the Canal Ward and Lower, so it seems. It would be interesting to see what they think of Lower, whether or not anything can be done of it.

Hm. Speaking of the Canal Ward, I should visit it more often. I need to remember that the lift in New Dunwarren is a path to it circumventing Lower.

It's a pity I arrived when I did. I wonder what I could do for the city if I was a councilor.

I will not allow the darkness to smother the beautiful people of this city.

~ * ~

The above sketch is created in ink and its solid lines focus on the woman's wavy locks of hair as they trail along the forehead, around the visible delicate ear, and rest upon the shoulder. Her eyes appear to be looking away and have been left unfilled. In addition to the thinly stretched lips, the overall facial features evoke a sense of sadness and lost. There is, however, the slightest of an inward angle of a frown along the eyebrows, as if just below the surface of sorrow there is a foundation of determination, a well of strength deep inside.

Hope in a smile and genuine, bell-like laughter.

~ * ~

A happy woman with a smile on her face and deep, soft details in her eyes. The dress hug tightly to her slender figure but her posture still remains calm and relaxed. A fair amount of attention has been placed in detailing the dress but even more so in the hair which frames her beautiful face.

It has been a long time since I have serenaded someone. At least since I was captured and enslaved. I hope Sune understands why I have not seen to my duties.

Till now, that is. I hope the sonnets pleased her. And Sune.

I continue to find myself inspired by the Seekers for some reason. My next project will take time, it has been a long time since I have worked with such a medium. But I will not let that stop me.

A rough sketch of a handsome, if rugged, man in what appears to be Watch armour. The look on his face is one of absolute, calm, determination.

The Montezzis continue to create so much destruction: Toman, Angelica, Rindle.

I fear the only options left require patience. Lots of patience.

Sanctuary has become less beautiful to me. And I worry the Underdark will forever be nothing but pitch black to my eyes without her guidance.

I have to continue. I will as difficult as it is. I have work to do and I will see that it is done. I am not alone. There is still beauty here.

Snuffed from this city...

The body was waiting in the mausoleum, I had enchanted it with some minor protective blessings to keep it in good condition while the rest of the preparations for the resurrection were being seen to over night.

The night, however, held for me a dream. A sweet dream. A bitter sweet dream. I had said my prayers to Sune before bed as usual, and before I even fell asleep I had visions of her in Brightwater at Sune's side.

The Hold could do nothing. She was beyond the Fugue. Whisked away by Sune's hands.

I'm happy for her. For her to have found peace. She's deserved it for all that she's been through. For all that she's done.

The lights have dimmed. But they still burn. In time, they'll shine brighter than the sun maybe.

Merin showed me a cave full of crystals that ranged across the entire spectrum of light.

It was beautiful.

A beautiful, dark skinned woman with strikingly contrasting light hair.

Jean-Paul.

I pray for you.

For you and Therese.

You, in all likely hood from the words you written down, are already passed from this world. And though you harshly turned your back on Sune, I still pray for you.

That maybe, where ever you are now, you will realize your mistake. That losing Therese is not Sune's fault, or yours, or anyone but the vile drow who would take so many, so much from us.

I pray, that maybe, where ever you are. You learn this and change. And maybe you would find yourself in Brightwater one day in the eternity that is time.

Your journal and the portrait of yourself will never be lost again just as is your soul. I will keep both in memory. To yourself. To my duty.

There are so many people I need to pray for. Jean-Paul's situation is one of many, many more tragedies in this place.

Things seem to be spiraling. Spiraling out of control.

Sugrin is dead. Killed himself. Why? I'm not sure. Because he was bored? Because he was pushed too far? None of these are good reasons to me. None.

The Montezzis--Jacques Montezzi--attacked and beat down Morwen and Corrine over some minor issue of walking with weapons drawn in Lower. Morwen nearly lost her head, I begged and I begged and Morwen was spared. But Corrine was shot in the back later on by an assassin.

What good does my begging do? Nothing. What good are words? Nothing. Not when they come from the lips of Jacques Montezzi. I shouldn't be surprised. I say I drop to my knees to spare those close to me and, yet, Myria lies dead, executed hours later.

Unstoppable. They seem unstoppable. With Breena Watchever and Dornal Avhost also dead. Who can do what?

It's not even the politics of the city that impacts me the most.

Merin. She scares me, still. But I love her.

And now. This Salvadora Santigo, a woman I randomly met in the wilds. She says she is the edge, a border between two worlds. That she can help me cross.

To what?

I have no solid idea.

But with everything as it is? Will I risk it anyway?

Svir will die.

Merin will become hollow to me.

Ferret will come to plague my days.

Salvadora's three predictions.

And the first I fulfilled with my own hands to an extent. I do not know how or why, but Svir yearned yet again for Sune's light touch and touch of light. Oona brought me to him at Port Claw--formally the Blue Mushroom Inn. He was under the gaes of a demon, his soul enslaved, his body forced to live beyond death to do as he was willed.

He asked me to help him. For Sune's forgiveness. To give him the death that naturally should be. After many hours of whispered words, confessions, and sentences intertwined with tears, I called upon Sune to magically sharpen my longsword.

Plunged into Svir's body, my blade cut the invisible ties that held him to this world when he should be beyond the fugue. My sword cut free the puppet strings held by the demon.

Svir is dead.

But the other two predictions? One I worry is encroaching towards fruition. The other I see no sign of becoming true at all.

I have two days to decide if I wish to cross. I have yet to decide because the consequences of the decisions are severe. I would swear an oath, and if I break this oath, I would somehow grow mad to the extent of killing myself.

Who is Salvadora Santigo?

What is it she offers me?

The rumours are true. There is a blood drinking demonic mirror.

And it has tasted mine. Sune forgive me. I pray that the vile thing chokes on my blood, that my blood festers within what abyssal pit it calls a stomach.

But I'll be damned before I let the Montezzis use Sune's holy blessings and gifts to "beautify" that mockery of a realm of theirs.

Salvador.

I prayed to Sune to bring Rook and Salvador back to this world.

And she listened.

She heard my prayers to raise the dead and she answered. Answered with a laughter so sweet, so kind.