I suppose that it was because I had hoped for a daughter, that the gods gifted me with a son instead.  Our son, Brandeth Nightstar was born on the 27th day of Marpenoth. And even considering he was born about a month too soon, I counted back and realized that I had gotten Rosealliele pregnant only a few months after we were married.

       I have never attended childbirth before, and after witnessing one, I vow that I never will again.  For though elven births are said to be the easiest of all races, they are still bloody, and my wife still screamed and was in so much pain that I was certain she was going to die. She did not die, however, though she cried piteously and made me feel like the worst sort of creature for having inflicted this upon her.

       Thankfully I don't recall much of when my son actually came out of my wife, for I when I heard her flesh tear, and saw his head coming out, I started to feel dizzy and was told by the clerics to get out of the way and to sit down before I fell down.

       By the time I felt strong enough to stand again, I could hear my son wailing loudly as he was being cleaned.  My attention was completely on Rose, at that point, however, for she was the most important to me.  She was quick to assure me that she was fine, just tired and sore.  I think I was a little incredulous over her words considering the intensity of screams only moments earlier, but she assured me that she was all right.  As soon as they handed Brandeth to her, I was forced to concede that she did seem much better, for though she was sweaty and weary looking, the expression of amazement that crossed her face when she set eyes on him seemed to change everything.

       I confess, I was not overly impressed at the first view of my son.  When Sera had hatched, she had come out looking impressive, even though she had been so small. Brandeth was…tiny.  His head was about the size of the palm of my hand, and his hands and feet were smaller than my little finger in their entirety.  His skin was so pale as to be nearly white, and it seemed to sag around him….as though he was wearing a tunic that was too big.  His eyes were squinted closed, and his head was covered in blue hair that reminded me more of the fuzz on a peach skin, than of hair.  And his ears were far too big for him, and folded over at the tips.

       All in all, not very impressive…and so very delicate looking!  Rose offered to let me hold him, but I declined, thinking that I might hurt him if I did so.  That's the nice thing about Sera…she's fairly sturdy and had been since day one. Rose didn't complain or anything, as she seemed content to have him in her arms.  I say that it's a good thing, for she best get used to it.  I'd rather not pick him up too much anyhow…at least until he looks more capable of surviving it.

       Rose was the one who came up with the name Brandeth, I might add.  She told me that she was trying to come up with a way to honor my foster parents, knowing how much I loved them, and yet still keep the name sounding elven.  Brandeth is sort of a combination of elven and human names. I liked it when she told me that was what she wanted to name him, so I didn't disagree.  Brandeth Nightstar sounds fairly good, and at least it's easier to spell than Keledrial or Rosealliele!

       Now while Brandeth was as unlike Sera in appearance as one can get, I soon discovered how much very like her he was when it came to certain things, and in learning so, I have concluded that all infants must act the same, regardless of race.  The big difference is that at least Brandeth doesn't try to bite my fingers off when he's eating!

       The first few days were fine enough, for he slept for the most part.  Then, roughly a week or so after he was born, it was like he suddenly woke up.  He started crying…often and loudly.  When he wasn't eating or sleeping he was making a mess of his diapers.  It was like Sera all over again, in that reverie was fleeting for both Rose and I, as he always seem to decide to be demanding the moment we laid down.  And poor Rose seems to have less than no idea of what to do.  My wife is always asking me if I know what's wrong with him, or what she should do, her expression so trusting and fearful that all I want to do is give her a definitive answer so that she'll smile, or at the very least be relieved.

       The problem is that, Sera notwithstanding, I don't really know what to do.  Brandeth's cries are different than Sera's were…and he eats differently and so forth. Sometimes I can puzzle out what he's making noise for, while at others, I'm at a loss.  And while I know that babies are small and helpless, I also think that they are somewhat vengeful about being so, and that is the reason they choose the most inopportune times to declare themselves.

       Now that he's a month old, Brandeth seems a bit bigger, and his skin seems to fit him better.  The fuzz on his head is starting to grow out, and almost looks like real hair.  The only problem is that it sticks up on top of his head like little silver-blue spikes, which makes him looks like a bird with ruffled feathers.  His eyes which started as a muted bluish hue have changed to a distinctive violet color…like Rose's.  Poor boy.  I have never envied any of the elven men I know with violet eyes seeing as, in my opinion, it makes them look like girls.  Violet really is a girl's color anyway.  I hope Brandeth doesn't get teased too much when he gets older.

       Still, one good thing is that Brandeth has shown no signs of poor health.  According to the clerics, he is as fit as a fiddle…which is an odd statement seeing as how would one know if a fiddle is fit?  But the point is, he seems to have no trouble with his breathing…he certainly cries enough to show us that there is no problem with his lungs, after all.  And thinking back to the stories I had heard of when I was a child, I recall my parents having said that I rarely cried as a baby…and perhaps that was the first indication that something was wrong with me.  I should like to speak with them about, to ask what other things they noticed before realizing that I was sick.  I have written to them, and sent several magical messages, but there has been no response from them yet.  I'm rather concerned about it, seeing as you'd think they take enough time to write me back, or at least show some interest in their first, full-blood, legitimate elven grandchild!  And Rose's grandparents haven't responded either.  I know she's upset about it, seeing as she told me so.  She thinks they're angry at us, but I rather think that's ridiculous.  After all, she was engaged so young in part because there is a need for the Silverspear house to try to recover their numbers with new children.  And though Brandeth will be a Nightstar, he being the first born, there is every chance that someday down the road…hopefully far, far down the road…Rose and I will have other children, and some of those children will be Silverspears.  They should be happy, I told her, as Brandeth is proof that their house will be continue on, through her.  Rose is not convinced.  Sometimes she seems so sad and gloomy lately that I'm the one cheering her up, when usually it is the other way around.  I don't understand why she still seems to cry for no apparent reason. Maybe she's been around our son too much!  Still, the clerics told me that it's normal for her to behave this way, although they couldn't explain to me why it's normal.  Still, I hope she goes back to being the way she was.  I rather miss the woman I married.

       On the bright side, Sera is handling things well, which is better than I hoped for.  Initially I had feared that Sera would break down into another fit of hysterics, like when she had learned about Kelly.  Strangely, though, she never did…even though having Brandeth, a "real" elven child was one of the things Sera had been afraid of.  She was very intrigued during Rose's pregnancy, and was always touching Rose's belly so that she could feel the baby.  I was worried that she might resent Brandeth once he was born, however, good nature notwithstanding…especially seeing as Brandeth takes up a great deal of our free time.  But Sera has yet to complain.  In fact, the problem is…although I don't know if it should be termed "problem""…that Sera is…possessive of Brandeth. In fact, after the first time she was allowed to hold him, she declared that Brandeth was her brother and that she was happy to have him…with a great deal of emphasis on "her's."

       Now she will try to carry him with her whenever she allowed, and whenever she has him, getting him away from her is the hard part.  She is very protective of him, and talks to him like he is grown enough to understand her, but with her usual draconic nature she thinks that because he is "her's" that no one should be allowed to hold him but her.  She won't let her friends hold him, and will almost never give him up to anyone but Rose or I.  It's a little unnerving, to tell the truth.  But I don't suppose I can blame a dragon for being a dragon.  At least she doesn't hate him, as she did my brother Kedriel.  It's just that she treats Brandeth as though he were a living doll for her to play with.  And while that's fine now, I can already foresee trouble once he gets older and develops a will of his own.               

Still and all, despite the fact that I am growing a bit more comfortable with my son's presence, despite the fact that I really do wish he would learn to rest at proper time of night, I still can't help feeling somewhat apprehensive.  After all, I haven't done such a great job with Sera, spoiled thing that she is, but at least I know how to deal with her.  Brandeth, I believe is going to be a far different story, and I do not think it will be nearly as easy to deal with him as it is with Zelairwyn.  After all, he is related to me and the gods know I have never been an easy sort to for anyone to handle.

I can hardly believe how easy it was!  I always forget how satisfying it is to kill someone especially when they don't see it coming.  I know that I promised myself I was going to stop…especially after how close I was to getting caught the last time.  But I couldn't help it…not after meeting the fair Rosealliele. From the moment I saw her, I knew I had to have her, that she should belong to me.  Unfortunately, that meant that my friendship with Keledrial was over.

It always happens this way, though.  I need to stop deluding myself, anyhow.  I like to kill.  I like to kill people who think they are my friends. And once again, I Tobias…or Raede…or any of the multitude or names I have given myself over the centuries, has done it again…set up and executed the perfect murder.

It was so easy, really…almost too easy.  But then, again I am just that good.  It's like an art…what I do.  Few people can master it, but I have.  And I love to do it.  I can barely even remember the first time I killed, it was so long ago, and yet each kill hold a special place in my heart.  How I wish I could somehow recapture each of the final expressions on the faces of my victims…that look of perfect surprise as they realize that I, their dearest friend is the one who is killing them!  Alas, I have yet to come up with a way to do that. 

I find it amusing, though, that no one ever bothered looking into where Hank went, for one.  It's certainly a good thing that Lita gave me the task of looking for him when we gathering people for the last adventure.  The nosy little digger was getting far too curious about my past for my liking…especially after hearing about the murder of Raede Elarnon while he was traveling.  Damned druid.  Well, he'll feed his beloved plants for a long time to come, now won't he?  And those journal entries Keledrial had me write! Everyone has always been so willing to believe the picture I paint for them…if any of them ever suspected what I am really like…well, let's just say that any one who ever did followed Hank into the afterlife! 

Still, I think I shall particularly treasure Keledrial's final look…that look of dawning realization, coupled with stark betrayal and utter surprise as I ran him through, killing him instantly when I pierced his heart.  The plan was just so perfect, you see.  And there is no way any one will ever suspect me

First I set up everything for Keledrial's110th birthday party…it would be a wonderful surprise I told them all..  Everyone agreed.  Then, after the party was well under way, I made certain a goblet of drugged wine made its way into the hands of Kellenes Dakarios.  When the poor fool had finally passed out, I "borrowed" his sword and asked Keledrial to accompany me for a talk.  There was something important I had to tell him, I said.  I left a particularly convincing illusion of myself, passed out.  Everyone knows Tobias can't handle his liquor, after all.  Nothing but a poor, cowardly bard…how I love cultivating that image.  If only they knew the true me!

And then the blade slid in, gods how I love that feeling, the warm gush of blood as it spills back over my hand.  And with his dying breath, he asked me,

"Why?"  They always ask why.  I never answer.  They wouldn't understand anyhow.  None of them understand.  Once he was dead, I took out the stone, a lovely little item that I procured centuries ago.  Called the stone of eternal rest, it is a tiny pebble, enchanted so that, once placed in the mouth of a corpse, the spirit will never be able to be raised or questioned.  I learned a long time ago, how questions when put to a murdered spirit can get me in trouble…and thus use the stone to remedy such problems.  I'll come back in a few decades and dig it up, as I always do, but for now…let's just say that dear Keledrial won't be telling any tales.  I had to kill Sanhandrian as well…it was rather too easy to chop the squirrel in half.  Too much trouble would come about if someone thought to question Keledrial's familiar, after all…at least they can be together in death, the one possession I will allow my ex-friend to keep.

So now, everything will go as planned.  I put the bloodied sword back into Kellenes's sheath, after smearing a bit of Keledrial's blood on his hands.  Come tomorrow, there won't be a single person who doesn't think that Kellenes murdered Keledrial.  Everyone at the school knows of their rivalry, after all. .And I, Tobias, will be the ever helpful friend, and aid the grieving family in anyway I can.  All that he has is soon to be mine…even now I write in his journal, for it is now mine as soon Keledrial's family will be as well.

All I have to do is be a bit more patient, and Rosealliele will be all mine.  I'll comfort the poor widow as best I can.  And of course, if she isn't inclined to be reasonable, there's always little Brandeth.  I've learned that most mothers will do just about anything to keep their child from harm...and oh the harm that could befall an infant as young as Brandeth!  Who knows, perhaps once I've had my fill of Rosealliele, I might see what it is like to mate with a silver dragon…little Sera is looking so grown up latel______

          Brandeth Nightstar looked down at the journal, feeling numb horror.  He could not believe what he had just read.  Everything he'd always believed had suddenly changed in an instant.  Brandeth had always known that his father had been killed when he was a baby, and he had always believed that it Kellenes Dakarios had been the one who killed him.  He had once asked his sister, sera about what had happened and she told him, sparing no detail about how Kellenes had been discovered with his sword covered in blood, claiming he could not recall what had happened the night before.  She told him how their father had been found, murdered, not far from where Kellenes had woken up, with a sword wound through the heart, matching the shape and size of Kellenes's sword.  Kellenes had been imprisoned in the town of Essembra, and was awaiting trial for the murder, when he disappeared.  Brandeth knew that once they were old enough, Sera and her rider, his father's former apprentice, Zelairwyn, had spent many years searching for Kellenes Dakarios to avenge Keledrial.   Though Brandeth had never met Kellenes Dakarios, he had been raised by Sera to despise the elf for taking his father away.  He had never harbored any ill will towards Kellenes' brother and nephew.  Brandeth had always liked Kalanas and Rhylaun, and had felt bad that they seemed to feel so guilty over what Kellenes had done.

            Sera had also told him about how Keledrial's best friend, Tobias had died that very same night.  For a while, it was thought that Kellenes had also had something to do Tobias' death, but the clerics ruled that Tobias had died of natural causes…his heart had suddenly stopped. 

            And now Brandeth knew that all of what he had been told wasn't true…and he wondered how it was that no one had known this.  Hadn't they read the journal when they found Tobias' body? He wondered.  Then, thinking about it, he concluded it was possible that with all the commotion of two possible murders in one night…the night of Keledrial Nightstar's 110th birthday, that the journal might have gotten overlooked.

            And now Brandeth had the journal, which he found stored in a box of his father's things…and with it, the proof that Kellenes Dakarios was innocent and that Tobias had been no friend to the Nightstar family.  And he wondered…why had the journal entry cut off so suddenly, only a trail of ink left by Tobias' hand, instead of a finished entry.  And why had Tobias died so suddenly?  After having read the entirety of the journal, and learning what sort of person his father had been, Brandeth had his suspicions.

            And then there were all the strange things about his life that he'd grown used to over the years.  The hand that would grab him before he could fall…but when he would look back, there was no one there.  The presence he sometimes felt, even if there was no body in the room.  And then there was his mother…most people thought that she was a bit mad, after her husband had been murdered so young, leaving her with two young children.  His sister told him that his mother had tried to have his father's spirit brought back, but that the spell had failed time and again, and no one knew why.  But then, one day, a year or so after Keledrial had died, Rosealliele had stopped trying to raise him.  And since that day, she often spoke to the air, addressing her dead husband as though he were still with her.  Brandeth had grown up with the understanding that though his mother loved him and was a powerful wizard, she was also insane…that she had loved his father so much that she could not bear the thought of living life with out him, and so pretended that he was still there.

            But now, with all those strange little things, coupled with the fact that his father's murdered had died "mysteriously" and suddenly, while gloating over murdering Keledrial, and plotting how best to exploit Rosealliele, Brandeth, and Sera, Brandeth was beginning to wonder if his mother really was insane, or if there were more too it than that.

            Suddenly, a breeze stirred through the room, even though there were no windows opened.  The last page in the journal turned, and Brandeth's eyes were drawn down to the book once more.  Written on the back of the page, scrawled in a vaguely familiar, but faded hand, were the words,

            "No one hurts the ones I love while I am still here…and I will always be here."

         And Brandeth Nightstar realized then, that his father had never really left at all.  He had, in fact, been with him, and the rest of his family all along.  And somehow, after having read the journal and learning what sort of person Keledrial had been, the realization did not surprise Brandeth one bit.