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Letters of the dead are still streaming in. I have tried throwing them away, but they return covered with smears of trash. I tried ripping them to shreds and they came back covered in blood stains. Burning them brought them back charred, embers still smoldering at the edges. When I decided to just hide them in my portable junk drawer, they escaped and returned again. This time coated in magic neatly rolled, and sealed in purple and gold wax with a seal I don’t recognize. The magic is angry, whispering in languages I don’t understand. I finally left them where they returned; in a bundle by the window of my room. The magic hasn’t gone anywhere, but the silence is deafening.
And now, Beastfolk have arrived in Meadowmere, cloaked in similar magic that I cannot discern. The magic will not speak with me. The closer I get to any one of them, the magic they hold grows tense, as if it senses my presence and recoils.
At first, I thought I was going mad. Or worse, losing my ability to understand magic. First with the letters, then with the Beastfolk. But then I walked by Kalen, Imend, Hermies, and Grimm and heard their magic chattering away.
If I’ve learned anything in this new world, it’s that magic can be deceptive. It can absorb pieces of the person it’s attached to and often acts similarly to its host. Secrets reveal themselves in the study of a person’s magic. This Beastfolk magic is old and it hides itself well. The deception it weaves even among their own is alarming. And it has already cracked rifts between the people of Meadowmere
It is not to be trusted. And while I am glad we have decided to follow the clues found on the map, I fear following blind into unfamiliar territory. My plan now is to find a way for the citizens of Meadowmere to learn to trust each other once again. At the very least, get them to stop suspecting Grimm…
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