Entry 8

I remember the waterfall in the Cloudpeak Mountains. There had been a dryad there, her tree planted nearby it. It was a scene of wonder, of beauty. We laughed then, Imoen and I. We had got horribly lost, taken a detour from Nashkel's mines, had tried to find a 'legendary fortress' filled with gnolls. We were going to rob it blind. At least, that is what the entry in my hand said. It did not sound like my words. But there was a crude sketch of the dryad and me kissing; I found another entry which noted my cheek felt as if it had been brushed by the breeze whispering through a waterfall when we were in the mountains, so perhaps that was it?

There were other recollections, of a town named Beregost, of a rude blacksmith and an even ruder mayor. That was were we first met Vai. The sun had been dull but shone between the broken clouds. The fear of bandits was running high, as was the bloodlust. Bounties had been placed. Gallows had been erected, even a pyre. They almost suspected us of banditry, but somehow, we were able to convince Vai we were not. I don't remember how we did, but I am sure it was Imoen. We laughed in the tavern that night, regaling ourselves with the looks on their faces… then a dwarf tried to scalp us, and Vai, who had been making rounds to check on her men, had heard the ruckus and rushed inside. The dwarf swung from the gallows in the dawn, but she kept an eye on us since then. We agreed to work for her, that much I do recall. Immy even agreed with a cheerful smile.

I find myself staring at the tubes. It shouldn't be too much longer. Three which stood empty are now filled, brimming. They hold her image. How well will a copy of a copy fare? What has become of me?

It is done. There she is, and there are the copies. She has had them taken to the antechamber, and they have given birth. They seem… hollow, somehow, shadows of her, as she herself must be a shadow. She has accelerated their growth with magic, and she has restored power to the portal. I don't understand how, but she linked the tubes' crystal to the portal network. I could not have reconfigured it, nor could the golems. Or could they? How much more is she not saying?

She has yet to birth our child. It is close, very close. She brought my head to her belly, and I could feel it kicking against me. I can feel it, feel its heartbeat through her flesh. I find myself troubled over her plans. Has she discarded her copies, or the copies of our child? Do they mean nothing, less than nothing? She will send them away, or kill them, I suspect. I would be surprised if she kept them. She may even given one to the dwarves, but she is not cold enough for that, is she?

I can hear the babes' crying. She has taken one and placed it in the tubes. The strongest of the three. It is not the death rite, it cannot be. I did not hear its mother protest.