Evening Star 2nd, 4E 201

After strong suggestion of Kodlak, I'm taking to writing. He seems convinced it's a useful tool to help keep the temptations at bay, or at least keep an idle mind distracted. I'm not too sure what to expect now that I've given up my transformations entirely, and to be perfectly honest, I'm slightly apprehensive. My last feed was with the numbers of the Circle, yesterday. I feel confident now my temptations will stray for a while. Yet I feel a storm brewing, and despite Kodlak's warnings, I'm completely oblivious to what kind of pain lies in store for me. I will take it casually day by day. I refuse to give up my missions, as I have far too many to dole out to the whelps. Half of these missions are in need of a disciplined mind and investigation instincts. None of the whelps hold either- they are a weak-willed rabble. Nothing a stern warrior can't beat out of them.

Evening Star 4th, 4E 201

The temptations to feed have been gnawing at me today. I've drank my body weight in mead and been eating almost everything in sight to help cope. I was nearly too drunk for training. I'm walking with a sluggish gait, and I know the whelps are poking fun behind my back. Any other day I'd strike the fear of the gods in them, but today I desire to be alone. To Oblivion with them all, I refuse to be a laughingstock for these idiots.

I've been spending my solitary time with my books, again. Kodlak was right, the Hunting Grounds is a cursed land made for the sole purpose to hunt for the rest of eternity. For Aela and Skjor, it sounds like a paradise… for me, it sounds like torment. A plane with no other purpose than to kill over and over? No brotherhood? No joys of splendour? No peace? How anyone would opt to spend their spirit life in Hircine's realm is beyond me. Sovngarde is where I belong. After a life of war and turmoil, where else would a Nord house their soul? The witches that influenced Terryfg to agree to this curse were cunning, and I know they reaped some kind of boon from Hircine for their treachery. I wish for nothing more than to seek them out and destroy them.

For now, I've been prying at Kodlak to allow me to help with the investigations for the cure. Solving puzzles are a specialty of mine, I feel like I'd be a new set of eyes that might catch something the old man would miss. However, he's stayed solid in his decision to do the research himself. He keeps saying it's his 'duty' to find it. We all agreed to partake in the curse, he shouldn't feel he's solely to blame.

Evening Star 10th, 4E 201

Farkas was on me today about my need for solitude. He's worried, but he doesn't need to be. I'm handling our abstaining from the beast as best I can, he should be so lucky he doesn't feel it nearly as bad as I do. Colours are almost so bright they distort. I feel a rush of vomit every time I go outside, lately. My skin feels like it's been flayed and my head like it just got walloped by a giant's club. My brother and I decided to give up our transformations together, yet somehow, he's handling it so much better. He's still out in the yard every crack of dawn and taking missions, I honestly can't fathom where his fortitude is coming from. My brother isn't the most advantaged when it comes to smarts, perhaps his ignorance aids his withdraw from the hunt better than I do. I understand the toil far worse than he does, and maybe I'm suffering for it.

Nevertheless, I had to crawl from my room at one point. I was bombarded by my whelps on training techniques. I was only a thread from turning and ripping them to shreds. Luckily Skjor came to my rescue, it was nice to have a laugh— he came bellowing at them like a clap of thunder. All their eyes went wide as children as they scattered to different areas of Jorrvaskr. But he instructed me to take the newest whelp, Ria, for her trial. Bear slaying in Eastmarch. Skjor seems totally oblivious to my torment and asking me to take this human girl to a solitary cave to kill some bear is a risk. But I'm still a Companion, I won't disappoint my Circle. I'll take her, but I'm keeping my distance from her. It's going to be a long trek, indeed.

Evening Star 15th, 4E 201

My days are dreary. Life is beginning to lose its meaning without the wolf. I'm far too involved in my own pain to handle missions, and it's starting to feel like Skjor is avoiding me when he's doling them out. I understand the price of turning, and I know my worth as a Nord when the temptations rage, but I still wrangle with my own doubts. Every morning I awaken to the heightened smells and flourishing blood of others, every morning seems meaningless. Kodlak promises me the affliction will dull, but at this point it only gets stronger every day. As I write I feel another wave of nausea coming, and my head writhes as if it's about to split open like a gourd. I will chug these three bottles of mead until I find relief, or until I fall over into unconsciousness.

Evening Star 18th, 4E 201

Skjor and Aela tried to turn me to their way of thinking once more today. Almost as if they planned a damn ambush outside my room. They spoke as if they were only worried for my well-being yet ignoring my stance on the blood or my afterlife. For a couple of Nords, they have a tendency of forgetting when one makes up their mind, you leave him to it. Skjor claimed that when I turned, he saw the man I was meant to be. Aela was less sentimental, stating if I don't turn, I'll eventually die or turn at the worst time. They asked of me to join their hunt tonight, needless to say I took this information and as they left me— I informed Kodlak. He will be speaking to them urgently on this, and hopefully I won't have to hear their pleas on the matter ever again. Damn fools.

Evening Star 22nd, 4E 201

Aela and Skjor won't even look at me now after the intervening of Kodlak. They feel as if I betrayed them, but I have no qualms in doing what's right for me. I warned them of this time and time again, but they kept at me, disguising their opportunism as 'family matters'. Farkas has a full slot of missions he's been doing almost back to back. Kodlak is always in his study, usually oblique and distant in thought. My solitude grows tiresome. As the pain writhes, I shudder myself away from everyone; my family. Yet, when the pain begins to lean, suddenly my 'family' have no interest in my company. I've seen more of the four walls of my room, than I've seen of the faces and surroundings outside for my own liking, lately. It's become incredibly droll. I fear if the pain doesn't condemn me to turn, the loneliness will. Inside my head, it's racked with demons who all push me towards one dreadful end. My dreams beckon me closer to the wolf, as my waking reminds me of torment, I must live through every second of the day. I'm not sure how much longer I can take this. I pry at my books of Sovngarde and try to remember Ysgramor's legacy in these moments. Whatever suffering I endure now, is the calling of a Nord fighting for his own soul. Misery can blanket me till I barely breathe, I will not give in to the beast blood. I am a Companion; I am a warrior. I am a good man.

Evening Star 24th, 4E 201

I nearly turned again today. The whelps were not heeding my instructions as usual, and I snapped. Athis started flapping his gob on how 'inconsistent' my lessons were getting. So I showed him exactly what kind of lesson I was trying to teach. As he whimpered on the ground from a blooded nose, I reminded him to never disrespect his trainer. The other whelps were speechless, and Kodlak did not agree with my method for teaching. I chose not to listen. These whelps will learn respect somehow, and that's not by sugaring them up with honeyed words and patience. Farkas wanted my counsel, I declined. I knew exactly what he was planning on saying, and at this point, I don't care. I'm alone in this misery. They all made sure I understood that. If I'm truly alone in this then I'll begin acting like it.

Evening Star 27th, 4E 201

I am a true Nord. I am a Companion. I am a good man.

I've been repeating the words as a mantra today as the episode has been getting far worse. As I write, my own sweat wets the page. My hand shakes vigorously along the parchment. I can't keep my mind off anything else but the taste of blood, and smell of flesh. I hear heartbeats cluttering around me like babbling brooks. Every gust of wind from outside trails in a scent that I can't break from. It's been 28 days since I committed myself to the old man's teaching, there has been no relief. I have drank myself into a debilitating stupor and yet, the temptations rage on. I have asked Kodlak for another bout of counsel. I pray he can offer me some kind of advice as my threshold meets its bitter end.

Evening Star 28th, 4E 201

Kodlak assured me today that the way I've been feeling is normal, well— for a werewolf breaking from his transformations, at least. He too struggled with the same temptations, he explained it would build far worse in the months to come, and I must prepare for that. I don't understand how I could ever overcome this kind of pain, especially after hearing it's only going to get worse. The old man assured me I wouldn't be fighting this alone, and to always darken his door if the episodes become too much. As I began to confide more, a stranger came to his door— interrupting our counsel. Some girl off the streets— just came of age. Her smell was so abrasive it threw me off my chain of thought as she approached Kodlak's chambers. She wanted to join up, unbelievably enough. Before I could scoff her out of the room, Kodlak was more than accepting to this nitwit, and instructed me to see how she throws a sword, much to my grievance.

As it turns out, my temptations have been taking a toll on my sword arm. When I took the little guttersnipe out to test her arm, her smell was so overpowering I lost focus. Needless to say, she downed me in the yard in front of all the others— much to my shame. She had wrists like tiny branches, and still honed an adolescent voice. It was embarrassing to fall to such a weakling. Worse enough, she took much pride from my defeat. I had to race back inside in order to stop myself from ramming my sword down her throat.

Now she's in, and probably going to create a whole slate of new problems for the hall. These fresh-faced warriors are not as easy to teach as they perceive to be, and Shor's bones— are they arrogant.

Evening Star 29th, 4E 201

Another day of torment. The episode crept back as I was dealing with a bandit camp outside Whiterun. Their blood pulsed radically, and my composure shattered as my sword landed in one of their gullets— spraying blood against my lip. I got a vague taste and it put me into a state. I nearly turned again, I could feel the grip on my heart as my bones began to rattle and shift. I went into a frenzy as I raged my blade into their pitiful hide armour. As soon as they all fell, I ran back to Whiterun. Every step I took back home I could feel myself beginning to transform. I can't describe the intense fear I felt in those moments, I were certain if I'd turned, I'd be lost as a feral in the plains till monster slayers hunted me down and ended me. I did make it back, but I was called upon by Kodlak, Skjor and Farkas before fleeing inside Jorrvaskr. I couldn't bear to sit through banter in that state, much less join in.

As soon as I got to my room I retched. My armour was almost suffocating. I didn't realize how drenched I was in sweat till the bitter chill struck as my body cooled. Even the idle footsteps of Tilma were enough to flex my hunger. I don't like disrespecting that woman, especially after everything she's done for me, but as she beckoned my door, I released rage. She luckily left without a qualm.

Much of my day was spent in my bed. I gulped over five bottles of wine; my head is still fogged from the generous drink. It's not nearly the giddy feeling one should have after enjoying a drink after a day's work in the plains, but it knocked me out. That's all I needed. That damn whelp came to Farkas's door this afternoon, hollering and stomping out in the hallway like a damn mammoth. I woke up to her ignorance, and strangely enough she wasn't scared of me. I couldn't help but feel slightly amused as she even dared me to attack her. The sheer gall of this one. I came close to teaching her the same lesson I taught Athis, but Aela appeared out of nowhere— as she does, and I fled in my room. Not that I was scared, but last time I angered that woman she broke my right arm; couldn't take missions for weeks. It just wasn't practical. Just a day of silence, a day of peace. That's all I ask. I've never been a man who sought solace with the Divine's, but by Mara's mercy, please release me from this torment so I may feel like a man again.

Evening Star 29th, 4E 201

New developments unfold tonight. Kodlak sought my counsel in my quarters tonight, he heard from Aela I nearly beat down the newest whelp. I wasn't so setback by Aela's ill towards my matters, as I was her concern for a whelp. Hypocritical wench, considering she beats down the whelps far worse than I do, some days. I think Kodlak was more concerned on my handling of the affliction than anything else. He offered some more advice on the beast blood, and just his company was enough to help the effects. My body has simmered down, and I don't feel nearly as queasy as I once had. I got myself cleaned up a bit as the intense smells and heartbeats seem to quiet down for now. The pain comes in waves, and usually lasts an entirety of a day, at night is when I get some ounce of relief, at least. I ran into the whelp again, and apologized. She was surprised— looked like a lost deer, but I think she understood. Hopefully she keeps it to herself.

Kodlak instructed me to join Skjor and Aela's mission tomorrow in The Reach. I agreed to lend my sword, as long as those two keep their mouths shut. My brother is taking the impish whelp on her trial tomorrow. Vampire nest… Farkas will cut through them like butter, but that whelp is probably destined to be their breakfast. The worst thing about her testing her mettle against mine as I wage war against my blood, I never had the opportunity to see if she really was worthy. I guess we'll know for certain, tomorrow. I'm not too hopeful, though. I'll wait for dawn, perhaps slicing my blade into the backs of conjurers is just what I need.

Evening Star 31st, 4E 201

I have returned, finally. My company with Aela and Skjor is gladly at its end. We aided Karthwastern by the skin of our hides, the people are safe, but their town left in destruction from the foul witch lords— the bastards. My heart only seeps pity for the faces of that town. I hail myself as I managed to save the life of a child, who nearly burned to death in a building. The wolf wasn't needed for the trek, not once. Despite what Aela and Skjor may have said.

The whole time I've known Skjor, not once have we ever reduced to such anger with one another. In fact, we have a kindred soul. I look up to Skjor, I even teach like him (with a varied sense of my own style). But yesterday was something I never expected. We were narrowly close to blows. He tried to blame me for the atrocities of that town. Spatting that the wolf would have saved their hamlet and those who perished before we arrived. Maybe he's right but running into that building taught me something I could only teach myself. My strength and prowess aren't defined by my blood. It's defined by my deeds. Falling back on the wolf in times of peril when we still have our burning hearts and fury— it's a true waste. Aela and Skjor may never understand that as they selfishly beg for pats on the head by a damn Daedra. I for one, I answer to no foul deity. I answer to myself, and the calling of honour. There's a shred of happiness I keep for myself now. I finally enjoy my chalice of wine, and not feel like it's a cure-all. I did something good today, something moral. That fills me with pride.

I've got a few burns to show for it, they sting a bit but the potion I took an hour ago seems to be doing its work. As I walked into the living quarters, after getting myself cleaned up, I ran into that whelp again. She's got an irritating knack for stumbling into me when I least expect it. The little idiot had a fresh wound on her ankle, she stepped in a bear trap. Shor's bones, I'm surprised she walked out of that place with her life. My brother was already fast asleep when I learned of their return. I'll share with him the news tomorrow. I'm excited to hear how the vampire nest went.

Morning Star 1st, 4E 202

Rage burns brightly in my blood today. Farkas has deserted me to my plight. As we rested out in the yard after the whelp's initiation, I learn as they were in Movarth's Lair, Farkas turned. He goes on and on about how direly it were needed, yet I know without a certainty of a doubt, he could have sliced through twenty vampires, much less a dismal eight. The old man couldn't care less, somehow it feels like I'm the only one who wishes to hold Farkas responsible for the promise he broke. Everyone is always so eager to treat him as a child, since he has the intelligence of one, but I know better. He understands more than most think, and I've grown tired of everyone excusing him. If there is anyone who is going to hold him accountable, it's his brother.

Worse still, he turned in front of that whelp! Mitzi… or whatever her name is. She saw the whole thing, and gods preserve me, I don't understand the inkling of why he did it. It's only a matter of time before she starts running her mouth. The madness of this hall as of late is mind-boggling.

Just a moment ago, Farkas was knocking at my door to ask if I'd attend the festival with him tonight. He clearly doesn't understand the toll of what he's done, or else he'd keep a long breath from me. I'm spending my time alone to enjoy the rare quiet of the hall. The music and cheering from the Gildergreen is getting far more rambunctious. I don't think I'd get any shut eye if I tried. I'm of two minds. If I should stay here or see what all the noise is about. I feel it's in everyone's best interest if I just stay here.

Morning Star 1st, 4E 202

The mantra is beginning to lose its meaning. I've been saying it to myself for the last two hours, and the dread I feel stays its clasp over me. I had a terrible vision tonight. Possibly the worst of the vivid dreams I've had since agreeing to this pointless pact.

In my nightmare, I see myself in the plains of Whiterun. It's dulled of colour as grey clouds blanket overhead, and growing mist builds. A figure begins to come forth from the mist. My heart rate quickens as the dreams distort into chaotic visions of carnage. I see myself in beast form sprinting through the plains— I can almost smell that distinct waft of blood in the air. With every throw of my claws, I begin to smell it deeper. The two moons glare down upon me. Suddenly it distorts again, and I'm standing naked over puddles of blood. None of it belongs to me, yet I can feel the same blood leeching from my mouth. Then I'm back in those plains, and the dreaded lord of man beasts himself— Hircine, he beckons me. He demands I give in and join the hunt. I decline and try to crawl myself away. His hand grips my throat. I awake in my bed layered in sweat, and the imprints of his hand still indented in my neck. I know in my soul he was here. Not just in my dream, but in my room. I fear now he won't stop until I relent and turn.

I cannot bring myself to tell this to anyone, not even Kodlak. I fear what he'd do if he knew Hircine's eyes were now on me. I cannot burden my Harbinger anymore than I already have.

Farkas came to my room again, this time a lot more abrasive than last time. He demanded I tell him what's wrong— so I told him. He didn't take it well, and as far as I know, he's done with me. Perhaps my words were far too cold for him to comprehend the root of it all. My heart is heavy in regret, but also burning in rage. How did it get to this point? Where I can't even look my brother in the eye without returning such disdain. This envy I feel for Farkas, this resentment, I hate myself for even indulging it. I've had it, I'm done. There's not much now that stops me from leaving the city tonight and joining the hunt once more. My blood is filth, and just like my stained mind, it always will be.

Morning Star 2nd, 4E 202

I don't have much time to write, and I've got a lot to journal, as my mind is raging in the events that have occurred. By the gods, I cannot fathom the dread that lay wake outside Jorrvaskr's walls. Vampires came to Whiterun last night, slaying guardsmen and villagers in throes. My heart aches for the families and friends of the fallen, yet I can't seem to express it. What I thought was a second wave of the party was in fact a waging war outside Jorrvaskr's doors. The others and I did all we could to stop it, eventually our numbers prevailed theirs. The vampires went scurrying back into the darkness like the bloodthirsty cowards they are. The temple is brimming with the injured and infected, with Danica doing everything she can to cure them, of course with the alchemist's help. Our streets lay in ruin, and smouldering in a haze of mournful ash. So many faces I've grown up with in this city— all dead and forever gone over night. We are all fuelled in rage, and anxiously await to take revenge. As it seems, that begins now.

Kodlak has agreed to go to the Dawnguard hideout in The Rift, he wishes to take the fight to these monsters head on. He's convinced the vampires are planning a world invasion, and I agree. They have never braved an attack on a city before. To me, seems like they are working to weaken defences of Skyrim. A tactic known all too well by those damn witch-elves. I wouldn't put it passed the vampires if they sought the same feat, and they certainly weakened us. Jarl Balgruuf has never looked so downtrodden before. Poor man. He has enough to deal with, and all he wanted to do was treat his people to an event. Seems you can never let your guard down in this province— it's ravaged by strife. Season unending, as they call it. We work with the Dawnguard in hopes we can put a stop to it before it's too late. It's a foolish plan to work so closely with vampire hunters— who undoubtedly hate werewolves, as well. But Farkas and Aela have agreed to go along with him, so as a member of the Circle, I feel it's my duty to join with them. Skjor prefers to stay in Whiterun to help keep the city defended, and get the whelps trained against vampires, in particular. The newest whelp, Mimzi (I'm fairly certain that is her name) will be going, too. Perhaps one of the most shocking developments from last night revealed she is the Dragonborn. Maybe I was expecting a large hulking Nord man, or an aged warrior riddled in scars. Definitely not the likes of a dainty wench. She used a Shout against the vermin last night. The noise cracked so loud my ears rang. At first, I thought the vampires used some foul spell to implode the walls. But when I looked back, I saw her still in some villager dress, with herds of vampires on their backs across from her. As loud as it was, it saved our asses, that's for sure. The old man is wise to bring her along, her power will be a force to be reckoned with against those bloodsucking scum. I'm eager to destroy them for the people who fell last night. My blade awaits to meet more of them— in due time. For now, we make our journey to Dayspring Canyon. I don't know how much time I will have to write once we get there, but one thing is for certain, my beastblood is the last thing on my mind.

Morning Star 2nd, 4E 202

Well, we made it. This place is far more massive than what I pictured. It reaches the clouds in bulking, stone towers. It is terrible and magnificent all at once, with such a fort, I feel the vampires would have to be babbling fools to crawl here. A fine place of operations to bring the fight back to these beasts. Farkas's hate for me has grown since we've left the wounded walls of Whiterun, he has so much disdain he won't even look at me. I'm trying not to dwell on it; trying to keep myself distracted. Kodlak and Isran seem to be getting along fine, so far. Both strong willed men, and with a shared motive. Farkas has been clinging to Aela's side like a puppy. Probably working to avoid me at all costs. Shockingly enough, my company was shared mostly with Mimzi on our way to this fort. She's actually pretty funny, and charming. It was nice to engage in some playful banter. I can't remember the last time I laughed as hard as I did. I still can't believe she's Dragonborn, but then again, I think even she can't believe it. Despite the disregard I've treated her with, she's almost undaunted by my disrespect. She's a good sort, and perhaps I judged a little too earnestly.

As soon as we got here, we were instructed to begin training immediately. My legs are still numbed from the six-hour trek on horseback, so I'm taking time to rest before I begin. Looks like our lessons will be instructed by some big, dumb Orc. Not really looking forward to that, but vampire killing is their territory— I'll try to be open-minded for the time being. At least until my patience is tested— as usual.

Morning Star 3rd, 4E 202

I haven't slept since the night of the raid. My vision is hazed, and body ragged. When I blink, it feels like a brutal chore to reopen them. I planned on getting some sleep after the training with the Orc, but my attention was brought to Mimzi's sudden disappearance. I aimlessly looked all over this behemoth of a fort, and she was nowhere to be found. I let Kodlak know, and soon Isran got involved. We went out to the stables and to our dismay, saw that her horse was gone, along with the saddle. Isran is convinced she fled, and I shamefully have to agree. It's the only thing that makes sense, yet she never struck me as the type to tuck tail and run when things got scary. She fought in that raid, valiantly, even fending them off at the gates. I can't comprehend she'd flee, especially considering the immense security at this fortress. I don't know why I'm even concerned, or if I should even care— but I do. Aela and Farkas were most disturbed, they have more of a rapport with her than any of us, and even they were convinced she didn't flee. Kodlak and Isran instructed us to carry out tasks for more recruiting. Clearly I won't be getting much sleep anytime soon. Not that I would anyway, my blood curdles at the thought of Hircine reappearing in my dreams. It's not the first time I've gone days without sleep, I'll muddle through it. But the most irking of this new venture is my shield-brother will be Farkas. He's driving me to madness with his constant whining and grunting, sometimes I just want to stuff a rag in his mouth to get him to shut up.

But when I brought this to Kodlak, he had a different perspective. He shared with me a story of the two of us as children, and I couldn't help but feel this compelling need to make things right. He is my brother. He's the only consistency I've ever had in my life. The state we are in now, it's unnatural. He's always been my greatest friend, and a gentle soul. A completely different contrast to me, that I know. The fact I've brought him such hatefulness, just goes to show the pain I've dealt him. The scowls and the hurtful words— it's not Farkas. It's never been him. I have repairing to do with him, urgently. I feel this quest to find this man will be my chance to work on things with him.

Morning Star 5th, 4E 202

I managed to get a few hours of sleep at least. I still feel weighted in fatigue, but I think I can rack another day or two. We made it back last night, and a lot transpired within the frame of a day. Among the struggles of troll taming, vampire attacks, and myself nearly transforming into a werewolf, once more, I feel I've gotten my brother back. A lot can transpire in a day.

If it were not for Farkas, I'm sure I would be a werewolf now— skulking along the higher trees of The Rift. He stayed with me through those dark moments— just when I thought we would never be the same again. Kodlak was right, we are stronger together, and the loneliness I've felt for the last month was because of me. I was ashamed to reveal my torment to others, just as any stubborn brute Nord, I didn't wish to divulge my suffering to my brother. However, Farkas was always there and wanting to help. I pushed him away. I am grateful to know I've been given another chance with Farkas, this time I know what I have. I have a damn good brother; I'm never taking that for granted again. Kodlak stays rested to my side as I write now, with Farkas snoring away blissfully beside me. The stab wound to my stomach from those damn vampires has begun to seal over, finally. After an array of healing potions that these Dawnguard seem to keep in hefty reserves, I'm coming back to full health again. Farkas's thigh was punctured through an ice spike by one of their foul tricks— it's on the mend, as well.

Isran seems as giddy as a merry man with Gunmar and his pet troll in the ranks. Aela has not yet returned from her journey to find that Sorine lady, but she'll turn up soon, she always does. As I write, Farkas starts to wake. So I will leave here with one important mantra I should have been repeating from the start, 'Family is Everything.'

Morning Star 6th, 4E 202

So, I've finally got some time to write, it's miraculous. Every time I do I feel I need to rush before the next toll of something comes. I didn't think I'd take such a shrine to this as I have, turns out I've got a knack for it. It definitely helps ease my mind, so it must be useful, after all.

Shortly after we awoke from my last entry, Mimzi returned to the hall. She brought some disturbing news. What we thought was a witless whelp running off to safety with her tail between her legs, was actually a stubborn warmonger heading into the fight without us. She went to Dimhollow Crypt, herself, and found out what the vampires were seeking. I'd honestly be impressed by her bravery if I wasn't so rightly pissed off at her disregard for us. The gall to just leave without informing anyone, delve into a dangerous vampire crypt, and then come back like nothing happened— Shor's bones, she's a lunatic!

However, she did learn that the vampires are in possession of an Elder Scroll, among all things. Farkas was rightly confused, not many know of these baffling artifacts. I wouldn't know much if I didn't strike a certain curiosity in my adolescence and did my reading of the scrolls in their entirety (or at least what's understood and inked onto pages). They are a terrible, powerful and destructive creation. Gods know why the vampires seek to hone one, but now that they do, I think we can all agree it's for a terrible prophecy. They are inscriptions of time, itself, usually always used for prophecy. As soon as we figure out what, we can make our next moves then. My mind races in worry, and hearts of the other Dawnguard soldiers are flailing. Even Aela (who made it back a little after Mimzi returned) showed faltering at the knowledge of their keeping with an Elder Scroll, but Kodlak instilled our hearts once more. Our fight has not yet been won; it's only begun. Now that we know of their weapon, we at least can prepare for the worst.

Morning Star 6th, 4E 202

Something strange happened today. I wandered out to the yard and saw Mimzi training at the archery post. Probably not as fascinating as it sounds, but something compelled me to walk over to observe her, much like I do in the training yard with the other whelps. Shortly before, I nearly threw my fist into her jaw after she had the audacity to hint at our secret to Isran. Heated words were exchanged, and clearly, she was just as sick of me as I was of her. But then I saw her again, and I just walked over to see how she was handling the bow.

Ysmir's beard, she was awful. She can't shoot an arrow to save her life. I've seen the blind shoot straighter. She was getting frustrated, so I decided to speak up and try to help her. Of course, she didn't take it well, like any whelp she was terrible at taking verbal instruction. I got sick of watching her do almost the exact opposite of what I was telling, but when I took charge and tried to show her, it started to not resemble training.

Suddenly her eyes caught light in the sun and I got to see them for real, this time. Gods, are they beautiful. She is absolutely beautiful, almost everything about her. When she shot that arrow in the bullseye after I showed her my trick, she smiled up at me. I felt a different gnawing feeling pulling at my insides like a sickness, but it felt good. I couldn't take my eyes off her. When she smiled, I could have sworn she were feeling it, too. I could hear her heartbeat; it was beating just as fast as my own. The way she looked at me, it spoke volumes. Yet I've treated her like dirt since knowing her. Just an hour before I threatened to punch her, then in that moment, all I wanted to do was kiss her. Maybe it's just the month of loneliness, or years without a woman to warm my bed, but this feeling is flooding over me like rapids from a river. What a ridiculous time to feel this way, with everything going on.

Farkas knew almost immediately my feelings as he came out to the yard shortly after. I don't understand how he can always tell when I have this kind of feeling for a girl. He says it's because we're twins, I think he just likes to drive me insane. Luckily, Kodlak called me up to his quarters as Farkas's teasing ensued. Oaf wouldn't shut up, I nearly ran to Kodlak to escape him.

Kodlak shared with me some of the most joyous news I've received in months. He found the cure. As far as he understands, the witches magic is melded to this curse, and by the witches themselves— the magic will be released thus ending the curse. We must seek the Glenmoril witches out themselves and slay them before taking their heads for ritual at Ysgramor's Tomb. We burn the heads in the Flame of the Harbinger, and the power they hold over us is released. Our souls and blood will be cleansed. According to the legend of Ysgramor, we need Wuuthrad to open the way. However, we need all of the fragments of the axe, first, which are scattered across Skyrim. I've spent enough years seeking lost heirlooms, I haven't a shudder of a doubt we'll find them. The news itself brought me to tears. Kodlak was wispy eyed, too. We hadn't laughed together like that in a long time. After we deal with these vampires, Kodlak and I will head to the tomb of our forebear to rid ourselves of this curse, once and for all. I do hope Farkas joins us in this pursuit, but knowing him, I have no doubt he will.

But, as good news is shared, bad news rears its ugly head— always. I saw Mimzi walking the upper balcony of the main chamber. My fool heart saw her, and I had to follow her— to talk to her. Any chance I could try and woo her into actually liking me (instead of seeing me as the stubborn brute she had grown accustomed to). However, there were already someone at her back. A woman. As soon as I saw her red eyes, I leapt from the shadows and tackled this bloodsucker to the ground. Turns out my valiant notion to protect a damsel in distress, was actually me hindering a plan of Mimzi's. In my rage, it took me a few moments to realize the vampire had an Elder Scroll on her back. This woman isn't just any bloodsucker, she's a damn Daughter of Coldharbour, and supposedly the crucial ingredient to enact a prophecy. The Tyranny of the Sun. I'm still coming to terms with it, sounds like flight of fancy, but it all makes sense. That Elder Scroll foretells the prophecy, and the vampire's blood is needed, with a weapon known as Auriel's Bow. I worry to write too much; it feels like taboo. I will say, with this prophecy enacted, the vampiric bastards can literally hinder the sun. To think, the collateral that would be dealt from the vampires if they managed to blot the sun out… it's mortifying. I shudder to think of it. But it's real.

Isran is a damn sputtering fool at this information, instead of killing that vamp and taking the Elder Scroll, he lets the monster to stay with us! We're just supposed to house the damn thing and provide hospitality to it. And to make matters worse, he forces Mimzi to stay with it. I'm pleased I'm not the only one enraged by this, as Kodlak and the others have all shared their grievance with it. We all agreed to keep a sharp eye out on Mimzi, make sure the fiend doesn't harm her. I've already thought of some gruesome deaths in store for the bitch if it tries anything.

Isran made sure to provide that vampire as suitable of an environment for preying on Mimzi, as he could. She can't sleep in the barracks or leave that thing's side, even for a moment. What a damn, hateful fool. Kodlak will be speaking to him on this, he's definitely worried for Mimzi's safety in this madness— we all are.

Well, I may have reaped an opportunistic moment from this as I got together some supplies. Mimzi had to sleep on the hard stone of the main chamber, I hated seeing that. Since the yard, I've been racking my brain on what I can do for her. So, I went to the southern tower. It's abandoned but reveals an eye-gaping view of the valley. A beautiful spot for a beautiful girl. I fastened together a bit of leather, grabbed some weathered sticks from outside, and put together a tent. Then went down to the barracks and stole someone's bedroll (don't know who it belonged to and don't care). I even managed to steal some mead. I put it all together and just as I was leaving the tower to go and wake her, dancing aurora began to form. It was perfect.

She loved it, she was confused at first, but as soon as she saw it, she was full of life. It's a pity that damn vampire had to come along, there's so much more I would have said to Mimzi if it wasn't there just gawking. For a moment I almost forgot that it was there. That girl is something else, the way she talks and the way her face shines when she smiles— it felt like it was just her and me. I almost reached for her hand, but hesitated last minute. As I went back down to the barracks, I silently cursed myself for not following through. Perhaps it's foolish thinking to go out of my composure to impress a woman, especially one so much younger than I, but my infatuation is at least keeping the beastblood temptations at bay. Idle hands, right?

If the world is ending and a vampire invasion lingers over the horizon, then why not? Who cares? I'd rather spend my last moments lost in those sea blue eyes, than filled with fear. Perhaps I may get to kiss those red lips before the sun is eaten from our skies. Tomorrow morning, I'm going to tell her how I feel. It's a bit too soon, and maybe abrupt, but in times like this you can't waste a single moment.