Diary ~
It is now years later. I am not the sort of person that finds the need to write down her thoughts every day, only when there is something to say.
I have told Dart all I can about his father, about what happened that night in Neet. He remembers some things but not all. I was surprised when suddenly he came into the kitchen yesterday.
"Mom?" He called me as I was cutting up vegetables. Despite Father's training, I think I fit better being a wife and mother than being a fighter. I wonder if Father would be furious to see this.
"Yes, Dart? Is something wrong?" I didn't look up; I was behind schedule. The memory of my father brings pain to me but his teachings had made sense, most of them anyway, and routine was part of it. I didn't like running out of time.
"Sort of. Mom, what was my father like? He didn't die naturally, did he?"
I cut myself with the knife then, I was so surprised. I write now with a pain in my hand. I put away the vegetables and sighed, sitting the both of us down at the kitchen table. For the first time in a while I really stared at my son, analyzing him. Dart was now eighteen, too strong for a child his age, in fact stronger. He would be the warrior that my father had always hoped for. Dart had many good characteristics: bravery, honesty, wit, chivalry, and sometimes a hotheaded temper but that was forgivable. I admired my own son because he was the end product of many dreams. He was smarter than I had though too, or else he would not be asking me this now.
I told him about Neet, about his father, about the Black Monster. It was a mistake. He flew into a cold rage and declared that he was going to find the Black Monster. He shocked me so much, my son had grown into a man before my very eyes without my knowing. But could he survive out there by himself?
I begged him to stay, tried to convince him that as his mother, I couldn't let him do something like this. But etiquette did state that one could avenge one's family. I cried again.
He said goodbye to his master, who assured me that Dart was ready. He said goodbye to Shana, who wept and wailed and clung to him until her father pried her off. She promised she would wait until he came back. He said goodbye to all his friends, but he did not say goodbye to me, his mother.
Instead he merely came up and hugged me.
And as he packed supplies and purchased a new sword and ran off, I was suddenly so reminded of Zieg again. He was just like his father. He even looks like a replica of Zieg; sometimes it makes me sad just by looking at him. And the necklace around his neck, with the strange pendant. Dart never took that off either. He brought it with him as he set off.
So now my son is out in the world, away from me, and I am here in Seles, alone. I think the only person as heartbroken as I am is Shana. The girl, now thirteen, really loves Dart. So young and yet she already knows that she loves him. This sort of childhood sweetheart story exists only in fantasies and yet for her fantasy may yet become reality.
But not for me.
I think I will care for Shana. Her parents, as the mayors of Seles, are often busy. Shana is Dart's good friend, and I have no child to watch over now, feeling so empty and alone and torn. I have too much time, and I cannot train like my father would wish me to; the villagers would find it too odd, and I would like to keep some friends among them. So I have decided that I will take care of Shana, and we will wait for my son Dart to return, together.