Sahrye - Revision history

ZYNACHI at 22:11, 1 February 2026

2026-02-01T22:11:08Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 17:11, 1 February 2026
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	But she found me—half-conscious, half-starved, and entirely defeated—curled beneath a cedar like a wounded animal. I remember the crunch of her steps through needles, the clack of bone charms against her cloak. Thought she was a hallucination at first. Perhaps she was.		But she found me—half-conscious, half-starved, and entirely defeated—curled beneath a cedar like a wounded animal. I remember the crunch of her steps through needles, the clack of bone charms against her cloak. Thought she was a hallucination at first. Perhaps she was.
	“''Child'',” she said, which irritated me. I have not been a child for a long time. “''You claw at death without tools. No wonder it tears you apart''.”
	[[File:Hmrazh.jpg\|thumb]]		[[File:Hmrazh.jpg\|thumb]]
	“''Child'',” she said, which irritated me. I have not been a child for a long time. “''You claw at death without tools. No wonder it tears you apart''.”		“''Child'',” she said, which irritated me. I have not been a child for a long time. “''You claw at death without tools. No wonder it tears you apart''.”
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	Cold flooded my skull. Not chilling...hollowing. As if my thoughts were being scraped clean, leaving only space for something older, heavier.		Cold flooded my skull. Not chilling...hollowing. As if my thoughts were being scraped clean, leaving only space for something older, heavier.
	“''You will not find your answers from priests, child. Nor from healers. But there are others who know the shape of death. Who have peeled back the veil with their own hands.''” Her smile widened. “''You have the hunger they require. When you are ready,” the woman murmured, “the Great Work will find you. And there will be those who recognize this mark, even if they do not understand it. Follow the calling, or don’t. Either way, the Work will find you.”''

	“''You will not find your answers from priests, child. Nor from healers. But there are others who know the shape of death. Who have peeled back the veil with their own hands.''” Her smile widened. “''You have the hunger they require. When you are ready,” the woman murmured, “the Great Work will find you. And there will be those who recognize this mark, even if they do not understand it. Follow the calling, or don’t. Either way, the Work will find you.”''		“''You will not find your answers from priests, child. Nor from healers. But there are others who know the shape of death. Who have peeled back the veil with their own hands.''” Her smile widened. “''You have the hunger they require. When you are ready,” the woman murmured, “the Great Work will find you. And there will be those who recognize this mark, even if they do not understand it. Follow the calling, or don’t. Either way, the Work will find you.”''
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	Just… deviated. As though the path I slept on is not the same one I woke on.		Just… deviated. As though the path I slept on is not the same one I woke on.
	I keep thinking about her last words:

	I keep thinking about her last words:		I keep thinking about her last words:
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	I stopped after that.		I stopped after that.
	It is clear this object cannot be removed by hands or tools. I don’t know if that means I’m cursed or chosen or simply in far deeper than I understand.

	It is clear this object cannot be removed by hands or tools. I don’t know if that means I’m cursed or chosen or simply in far deeper than I understand.		It is clear this object cannot be removed by hands or tools. I don’t know if that means I’m cursed or chosen or simply in far deeper than I understand.
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	I was eating when the firelight shifted, shadows tilting where they should have fallen straight. Not away from the flame, but toward it.		I was eating when the firelight shifted, shadows tilting where they should have fallen straight. Not away from the flame, but toward it.
	“''You’ve been carrying questions for a very long time, haven’t you?''”

	“''You’ve been carrying questions for a very long time, haven’t you?''”		“''You’ve been carrying questions for a very long time, haven’t you?''”
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	But he knew.		But he knew.
	He moved around the fire with the steady rhythm of someone accustomed to study, not violence. When he reached me, he examined the obsidian on my brow as if it were a fascinating footnote in a manuscript.

	He moved around the fire with the steady rhythm of someone accustomed to study, not violence. When he reached me, he examined the obsidian on my brow as if it were a fascinating footnote in a manuscript.		He moved around the fire with the steady rhythm of someone accustomed to study, not violence. When he reached me, he examined the obsidian on my brow as if it were a fascinating footnote in a manuscript.

ZYNACHI at 22:06, 1 February 2026

2026-02-01T22:06:18Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 17:06, 1 February 2026
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	Sahrye did not resist.		Sahrye did not resist.
	She became what the H’Mrazh had foreseen, what Zamidren recognized, what the Arcane welcomed.

	She became what the H’Mrazh had foreseen, what Zamidren recognized, what the Arcane welcomed.		She became what the H’Mrazh had foreseen, what Zamidren recognized, what the Arcane welcomed.
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	Not that anyone remembered. Not that anyone ever has.		Not that anyone remembered. Not that anyone ever has.
	If this entry ends in blotched ink, it’s because my fingers are still trembling from the cold. Or perhaps from what she told me.

	If this entry ends in blotched ink, it’s because my fingers are still trembling from the cold. Or perhaps from what she told me.		If this entry ends in blotched ink, it’s because my fingers are still trembling from the cold. Or perhaps from what she told me.
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	“''You may yet be one of ours'', Sahrye.” she whispered. “''If you survive what comes next''.”		“''You may yet be one of ours'', Sahrye.” she whispered. “''If you survive what comes next''.”
	And then she was gone.

	And then she was gone.		And then she was gone.
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	If anything, it is a summons.		If anything, it is a summons.
	The world cast me aside.

	The world cast me aside.		The world cast me aside.
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	And I will follow that voice.		And I will follow that voice.
	I will learn what lies beyond the veil.

	I will learn what lies beyond the veil.		I will learn what lies beyond the veil.
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	And the faint hum behind my thoughts.		And the faint hum behind my thoughts.
	I walked for hours today, trying to steady myself, but the stone reacts to things. More than once it pulsed faintly as I passed a dead log or the bleached bones of some woodland creature. Not light. Not exactly. More like a subtle shift in the air, as though something inside it recognized something inside ''them''.

	I walked for hours today, trying to steady myself, but the stone reacts to things. More than once it pulsed faintly as I passed a dead log or the bleached bones of some woodland creature. Not light. Not exactly. More like a subtle shift in the air, as though something inside it recognized something inside ''them''.		I walked for hours today, trying to steady myself, but the stone reacts to things. More than once it pulsed faintly as I passed a dead log or the bleached bones of some woodland creature. Not light. Not exactly. More like a subtle shift in the air, as though something inside it recognized something inside ''them''.
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	I am not imagining it.		I am not imagining it.
	When I stopped to eat (the little left of what those thieves didn’t steal), a raven landed a few feet away and stared at me so intently I dropped my food. Its head tilted. Its gaze flicked to the obsidian. Then it let out a sound… nothing like a normal call. Almost like ''laughter''.

	When I stopped to eat (the little left of what those thieves didn’t steal), a raven landed a few feet away and stared at me so intently I dropped my food. Its head tilted. Its gaze flicked to the obsidian. Then it let out a sound… nothing like a normal call. Almost like ''laughter''.		When I stopped to eat (the little left of what those thieves didn’t steal), a raven landed a few feet away and stared at me so intently I dropped my food. Its head tilted. Its gaze flicked to the obsidian. Then it let out a sound… nothing like a normal call. Almost like ''laughter''.
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	That alone should have stopped me.		That alone should have stopped me.
	But curiosity has always outweighed caution.

	But curiosity has always outweighed caution.		But curiosity has always outweighed caution.
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	– Heating tongs in a small fire — when the metal neared the stone, the flame bent sideways. Sideways. Fire does not do that.		– Heating tongs in a small fire — when the metal neared the stone, the flame bent sideways. Sideways. Fire does not do that.
	Finally, I pressed the tongs against it anyway.

	Finally, I pressed the tongs against it anyway.		Finally, I pressed the tongs against it anyway.
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	I turned so quickly I nearly lost my footing. Three figures stood just beyond the fire’s edge — cloaked, hooded, their faces submerged in shadow. They moved like they weighed nothing at all.		I turned so quickly I nearly lost my footing. Three figures stood just beyond the fire’s edge — cloaked, hooded, their faces submerged in shadow. They moved like they weighed nothing at all.
	A human man stood just beyond the firelight — mature, stout, dark-skinned, with thin white hair pulled back neatly and storm-grey eyes that saw far too much. His cloak parted enough to reveal a sliver of metal at his hip — a ceremonial knife, blade curved like a crescent moon dipped in ink. A scholar’s reading spectacles perched on his nose.

	A human man stood just beyond the firelight — mature, stout, dark-skinned, with thin white hair pulled back neatly and storm-grey eyes that saw far too much. His cloak parted enough to reveal a sliver of metal at his hip — a ceremonial knife, blade curved like a crescent moon dipped in ink. A scholar’s reading spectacles perched on his nose.		A human man stood just beyond the firelight — mature, stout, dark-skinned, with thin white hair pulled back neatly and storm-grey eyes that saw far too much. His cloak parted enough to reveal a sliver of metal at his hip — a ceremonial knife, blade curved like a crescent moon dipped in ink. A scholar’s reading spectacles perched on his nose.
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	And yet every part of me understood that he was neither lost nor harmless.		And yet every part of me understood that he was neither lost nor harmless.
	I knew, instantly, what they were.

	I knew, instantly, what they were.		I knew, instantly, what they were.
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	I stared at him. At his calm. At his certainty. At the shadows that bent toward him like old companions.		I stared at him. At his calm. At his certainty. At the shadows that bent toward him like old companions.
	“''Why me''?” I whispered.

	“''Why me''?” I whispered.		“''Why me''?” I whispered.
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	I quickly released it unto the ground.		I quickly released it unto the ground.
	The mound of dirt began moving and shifting, and then rose beside me, lifting like a creature waking from sleep. Pebbles rolled into its shape. Roots twisted inward like tendons knitting into place. Soil compressed into something with weight and form.

	The mound of dirt began moving and shifting, and then rose beside me, lifting like a creature waking from sleep. Pebbles rolled into its shape. Roots twisted inward like tendons knitting into place. Soil compressed into something with weight and form.		The mound of dirt began moving and shifting, and then rose beside me, lifting like a creature waking from sleep. Pebbles rolled into its shape. Roots twisted inward like tendons knitting into place. Soil compressed into something with weight and form.
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	What’s wrong is me.		What’s wrong is me.


	Today, I forgot Talia’s face.		Today, I forgot Talia’s face.
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	The obsidian pulsed then.		The obsidian pulsed then.

			I don’t think that was coincidence.
	I don’t think that was coincidence.I’ve also noticed a new sensation: my reactions come a fraction of a second too late, as though my thoughts have to pass through some unseen filter before reaching my limbs. Earlier, I cut my thumb while trimming a branch for a walking stick. I watched the blood bead — bright, familiar, comforting — but I felt the pain in a slow bloom, almost detached, like it belonged to someone else.
	My body is still mine.

	I’ve also noticed a new sensation: my reactions come a fraction of a second too late, as though my thoughts have to pass through some unseen filter before reaching my limbs. Earlier, I cut my thumb while trimming a branch for a walking stick. I watched the blood bead — bright, familiar, comforting — but I felt the pain in a slow bloom, almost detached, like it belonged to someone else.		I’ve also noticed a new sensation: my reactions come a fraction of a second too late, as though my thoughts have to pass through some unseen filter before reaching my limbs. Earlier, I cut my thumb while trimming a branch for a walking stick. I watched the blood bead — bright, familiar, comforting — but I felt the pain in a slow bloom, almost detached, like it belonged to someone else.
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	I call it something closer to seduction.		I call it something closer to seduction.
	I am learning quickly. Faster, Zamidren says, than most. He watches me closely during lessons, his storm-grey eyes tracking not only the spells I cast, but the thoughts I try — poorly — to hide behind them.

	I am learning quickly. Faster, Zamidren says, than most. He watches me closely during lessons, his storm-grey eyes tracking not only the spells I cast, but the thoughts I try — poorly — to hide behind them.		I am learning quickly. Faster, Zamidren says, than most. He watches me closely during lessons, his storm-grey eyes tracking not only the spells I cast, but the thoughts I try — poorly — to hide behind them.
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	I had just finished channeling a delicate thread of Arcane through a cadaver’s sternum to read its lingering impressions. The world around me had gone soft, blurred, replaced by the crystalline clarity of the signature left behind by its last moments. When I returned to myself, the candlelight seemed dimmer, farther away.		I had just finished channeling a delicate thread of Arcane through a cadaver’s sternum to read its lingering impressions. The world around me had gone soft, blurred, replaced by the crystalline clarity of the signature left behind by its last moments. When I returned to myself, the candlelight seemed dimmer, farther away.
	“''You didn’t blink for nearly a minute'',” Zamidren said, voice quiet, almost fatherly.

	“''You didn’t blink for nearly a minute'',” Zamidren said, voice quiet, almost fatherly.		“''You didn’t blink for nearly a minute'',” Zamidren said, voice quiet, almost fatherly.
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	Not ripped away. Nothing so violent. But dissolving, like pigment washed from a page. A slow, inevitable unmaking.		Not ripped away. Nothing so violent. But dissolving, like pigment washed from a page. A slow, inevitable unmaking.


	Zamidren warned me this day would come.		Zamidren warned me this day would come.
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	I should be terrified.		I should be terrified.
	But instead, I feel something like… acceptance.

	But instead, I feel something like… acceptance.		But instead, I feel something like… acceptance.

ZYNACHI at 22:02, 1 February 2026

2026-02-01T22:02:18Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 17:02, 1 February 2026
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	The Triumphant of the Philosophers of the Knife.		The Triumphant of the Philosophers of the Knife.
	He told her the truth others had buried: that the path she walked would not disappear, and that only among the Philosophers would her questions find answers instead of fear. He offered no threats, no promises—only knowledge.

	He told her the truth others had buried: that the path she walked would not disappear, and that only among the Philosophers would her questions find answers instead of fear. He offered no threats, no promises—only knowledge.		He told her the truth others had buried: that the path she walked would not disappear, and that only among the Philosophers would her questions find answers instead of fear. He offered no threats, no promises—only knowledge.

ZYNACHI: /* Nightmare Sahrye Mahlored, Shield Warden */

2026-02-01T21:59:58Z

Nightmare Sahrye Mahlored, Shield Warden

← Older revision		Revision as of 16:59, 1 February 2026
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	When priests and healers dismissed her questions with empty platitudes, Sahrye left home in grief and anger. For years she traveled across Elanthia seeking understanding wherever the dead and dying taught more honestly than the living: the morgue on Aesry Surlaenis’a, the plague houses of Mer’Kresh, the battlefield triages near the Crossing. She learned the body’s secrets through cold precision and quiet determination, yet the truth behind death remained just out of reach.		When priests and healers dismissed her questions with empty platitudes, Sahrye left home in grief and anger. For years she traveled across Elanthia seeking understanding wherever the dead and dying taught more honestly than the living: the morgue on Aesry Surlaenis’a, the plague houses of Mer’Kresh, the battlefield triages near the Crossing. She learned the body’s secrets through cold precision and quiet determination, yet the truth behind death remained just out of reach.
	Everything changed on her seventeenth birthday.

	Everything changed on her seventeenth birthday.		Everything changed on her seventeenth birthday.

ZYNACHI at 05:08, 30 November 2025

2025-11-30T05:08:46Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 00:08, 30 November 2025
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	----'''I am Sahrye Mahlored. Shadow-Daughter reborn, Bearer of the Starfallen Obsidian, Last Heir of the H’Mrazh Listening Line, Adept of the Great Work and Chosen of the Arcane Veil.'''		----'''I am Sahrye Mahlored. Shadow-Daughter reborn, Bearer of the Starfallen Obsidian, Last Heir of the H’Mrazh Listening Line, Adept of the Great Work and Chosen of the Arcane Veil.'''

	Wrought by questions the world feared to answer, Forged in silence the gods refused to break, Student of Zamidren Book, And the coming shape of knowledge the Hounds cannot kill~~.istake this for blessing~~.		Wrought by questions the world feared to answer, Forged in silence the gods refused to break, Student of Zamidren Book, And the coming shape of knowledge the Hounds cannot kill.
	----		----

ZYNACHI: /* Nightmare Sahrye Mahlored, Shield Warden */

2025-11-29T21:41:06Z

Nightmare Sahrye Mahlored, Shield Warden

← Older revision		Revision as of 16:41, 29 November 2025
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	But she found me—half-conscious, half-starved, and entirely defeated—curled beneath a cedar like a wounded animal. I remember the crunch of her steps through needles, the clack of bone charms against her cloak. Thought she was a hallucination at first. Perhaps she was.		But she found me—half-conscious, half-starved, and entirely defeated—curled beneath a cedar like a wounded animal. I remember the crunch of her steps through needles, the clack of bone charms against her cloak. Thought she was a hallucination at first. Perhaps she was.
	“''Child'',” she said, which irritated me. I have not been a child for a long time. “''You claw at death without tools. No wonder it tears you apart''.”		“''Child'',” she said, which irritated me. I have not been a child for a long time. “''You claw at death without tools. No wonder it tears you apart''.”
			[[File:Hmrazh.jpg\|thumb]]

	“''Child'',” she said, which irritated me. I have not been a child for a long time. “''You claw at death without tools. No wonder it tears you apart''.”		“''Child'',” she said, which irritated me. I have not been a child for a long time. “''You claw at death without tools. No wonder it tears you apart''.”

ZYNACHI: /* “Goodbye to Who I Was” */

2025-11-27T21:58:00Z

“Goodbye to Who I Was”

← Older revision		Revision as of 16:58, 27 November 2025
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	I should be terrified.		I should be terrified.
			But instead, I feel something like… acceptance.

	But instead, I feel something like… acceptance.		But instead, I feel something like… acceptance.

ZYNACHI: /* “Goodbye to Who I Was” */

2025-11-27T21:57:25Z

“Goodbye to Who I Was”

← Older revision		Revision as of 16:57, 27 November 2025
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	I took his hand.		I took his hand.
	The moment flesh touched flesh, something inside me snapped awake. A cold breath spilled across my mind. The world shifted. Sharpened. As though a veil had torn.

	The moment flesh touched flesh, something inside me snapped awake. A cold breath spilled across my mind. The world shifted. Sharpened. As though a veil had torn.		The moment flesh touched flesh, something inside me snapped awake. A cold breath spilled across my mind. The world shifted. Sharpened. As though a veil had torn.
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	I am exhilarated.		I am exhilarated.
	I have joined the Necromancer Guild.

	I have joined the Necromancer Guild.		I have joined the Necromancer Guild.
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	I killed a badger near a hollow root, to further understand the machinations of death. It was still warm, and as I knelt, placing my hands gently along its ribs, trying to feel the impression — the echo — the signature that death leaves behind, I felt the Arcane stir, cautious and curious, as it always does.		I killed a badger near a hollow root, to further understand the machinations of death. It was still warm, and as I knelt, placing my hands gently along its ribs, trying to feel the impression — the echo — the signature that death leaves behind, I felt the Arcane stir, cautious and curious, as it always does.



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	Uncontrolled.		Uncontrolled.
	“''Stop''!” I shouted — at myself, at the construct, at the mana itself.

	“''Stop''!” I shouted — at myself, at the construct, at the mana itself.		“''Stop''!” I shouted — at myself, at the construct, at the mana itself.
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	Uncontrolled.		Uncontrolled.
	Zamidren warned that the mana would test me. That the Arcane is clever, mischievous even — a current that will carry you away if you do not learn to swim with intention.

	Zamidren warned that the mana would test me. That the Arcane is clever, mischievous even — a current that will carry you away if you do not learn to swim with intention.		Zamidren warned that the mana would test me. That the Arcane is clever, mischievous even — a current that will carry you away if you do not learn to swim with intention.
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	a part of me felt something frightening.		a part of me felt something frightening.
	Recognition.

	Recognition.		Recognition.
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	The obsidian pulsed then.		The obsidian pulsed then.

			I don’t think that was coincidence.I’ve also noticed a new sensation: my reactions come a fraction of a second too late, as though my thoughts have to pass through some unseen filter before reaching my limbs. Earlier, I cut my thumb while trimming a branch for a walking stick. I watched the blood bead — bright, familiar, comforting — but I felt the pain in a slow bloom, almost detached, like it belonged to someone else.
	I don’t think that was coincidence.
		⚫	My body is still mine.

	I’ve also noticed a new sensation: my reactions come a fraction of a second too late, as though my thoughts have to pass through some unseen filter before reaching my limbs. Earlier, I cut my thumb while trimming a branch for a walking stick. I watched the blood bead — bright, familiar, comforting — but I felt the pain in a slow bloom, almost detached, like it belonged to someone else.		I’ve also noticed a new sensation: my reactions come a fraction of a second too late, as though my thoughts have to pass through some unseen filter before reaching my limbs. Earlier, I cut my thumb while trimming a branch for a walking stick. I watched the blood bead — bright, familiar, comforting — but I felt the pain in a slow bloom, almost detached, like it belonged to someone else.
⚫	My body is still mine.

	My body is still mine.		My body is still mine.
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	Who am I becoming?		Who am I becoming?
			The old woman said the Work would find me.

	The old woman said the Work would find me.		The old woman said the Work would find me.
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	I call it something closer to seduction.		I call it something closer to seduction.
			I am learning quickly. Faster, Zamidren says, than most. He watches me closely during lessons, his storm-grey eyes tracking not only the spells I cast, but the thoughts I try — poorly — to hide behind them.

	I am learning quickly. Faster, Zamidren says, than most. He watches me closely during lessons, his storm-grey eyes tracking not only the spells I cast, but the thoughts I try — poorly — to hide behind them.		I am learning quickly. Faster, Zamidren says, than most. He watches me closely during lessons, his storm-grey eyes tracking not only the spells I cast, but the thoughts I try — poorly — to hide behind them.
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	“''That girl found the door'',” he said. “''But you… you are the one stepping through''.”		“''That girl found the door'',” he said. “''But you… you are the one stepping through''.”
	Zamidren asked about the old woman again today.

	Zamidren asked about the old woman again today.		Zamidren asked about the old woman again today.
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	And now it sits on my forehead, humming like a second mind.		And now it sits on my forehead, humming like a second mind.
	Zamidren's voice lowered:

	Zamidren's voice lowered:		Zamidren's voice lowered:
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	“''Let the old self fall away'',” he said. “''She is an anchor. You are meant to rise''.”		“''Let the old self fall away'',” he said. “''She is an anchor. You are meant to rise''.”



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	''— S. Mahlored''		''— S. Mahlored''

			----
⚫	= '''“Goodbye to Who I Was”''' =

		⚫	=== '''“Goodbye to Who I Was”''' ===
	''Written the afternoon of the 44th day of the 8th month of Skullcleaver the Dwarven Axe, in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''		''Written the afternoon of the 44th day of the 8th month of Skullcleaver the Dwarven Axe, in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''
	----Tonight, I say goodbye.		----Tonight, I say goodbye.
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	Not ripped away. Nothing so violent. But dissolving, like pigment washed from a page. A slow, inevitable unmaking.		Not ripped away. Nothing so violent. But dissolving, like pigment washed from a page. A slow, inevitable unmaking.

	Zamidren warned me this day would come.

	Zamidren warned me this day would come.		Zamidren warned me this day would come.
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	Like a door whose handle I have already touched, now swinging open.		Like a door whose handle I have already touched, now swinging open.
	So tonight, with my path clearly laid out in front of me, I say goodbye to the girl who walked into the forest alone and met a woman who should not exist.

	So tonight, with my path clearly laid out in front of me, I say goodbye to the girl who walked into the forest alone and met a woman who should not exist.		So tonight, with my path clearly laid out in front of me, I say goodbye to the girl who walked into the forest alone and met a woman who should not exist.
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	But she cannot take the next step.		But she cannot take the next step.
	Zamidren says this is right —

	Zamidren says this is right —

	~~that~~ I am becoming what the obsidian recognized in me long before I knew my own nature.		Zamidren says this is right—that I am becoming what the obsidian recognized in me long before I knew my own nature.

	The mana thrums inside me now, eager, responsive, alive.		The mana thrums inside me now, eager, responsive, alive.
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	My pulse.		My pulse.
	When I finish writing this, I will close the journal.

	When I finish writing this, I will close the journal.		When I finish writing this, I will close the journal.
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	I will place it on the shelf.		I will place it on the shelf.

	And I will leave that life behind.		And I will leave that life and that girl behind.

	This is my becoming. This is my Work.		This is my becoming. This is my Work.
	I am '''Sahrye Mahlored'''. Shadow-Daughter reborn, Bearer of the Starfallen Obsidian, Last Heir of the H’Mrazh Listening Line, Novice of the Great Work and Chosen of the Arcane Veil.

	'''I am Sahrye Mahlored. Shadow-Daughter reborn, Bearer of the Starfallen Obsidian, Last Heir of the H’Mrazh Listening Line, Adept of the Great Work and Chosen of the Arcane Veil.'''		----'''I am Sahrye Mahlored. Shadow-Daughter reborn, Bearer of the Starfallen Obsidian, Last Heir of the H’Mrazh Listening Line, Adept of the Great Work and Chosen of the Arcane Veil.'''

	Wrought by questions the world feared to answer, Forged in silence the gods refused to break, Student of Zamidren Book, And the coming shape of knowledge the Hounds cannot kill.istake this for blessing.		Wrought by questions the world feared to answer, Forged in silence the gods refused to break, Student of Zamidren Book, And the coming shape of knowledge the Hounds cannot kill.istake this for blessing.
			----

ZYNACHI: /* “Clawing at Death without Tools” */

2025-11-27T21:53:31Z

“Clawing at Death without Tools”

← Older revision		Revision as of 16:53, 27 November 2025
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	== '''Sahrye’s Journal''' ==		== '''Sahrye’s Journal''' ==

	=== '''“Clawing at Death without Tools”''' ===		=== '''“Clawing at Death without Tools”''' ===
	''Written at dusk on the 23rd day of the 5th month of Uthmor the Giant in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''		''Written at dusk on the 23rd day of the 5th month of Uthmor the Giant in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''
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	''— S. Mahlored''		''— S. Mahlored''
			----

	= '''“The Morning After”''' =		=== '''“The Morning After”''' ===
	''Written the morning of the 24th day of the 5th month of Uthmor the Giant in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''		''Written the morning of the 24th day of the 5th month of Uthmor the Giant in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''
	----I barely slept.		----I barely slept.
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	''— S. Mahlored''		''— S. Mahlored''

			----
⚫	= '''“The Immovable Obsidian”''' =

		⚫	=== '''“The Immovable Obsidian”''' ===
	''Written the evening of the 24th day of the 5th month of Uthmor the Giant in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''		''Written the evening of the 24th day of the 5th month of Uthmor the Giant in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''
	----I spent the afternoon trying to remove it.		----I spent the afternoon trying to remove it.
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	''— S. Mahlored''		''— S. Mahlored''

			----
⚫	= '''“The Knife's Shadow”''' =

		⚫	=== '''“The Knife's Shadow”''' ===
	''Written the evening of the 30th day of the 5th month of Uthmor the Giant in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''		''Written the evening of the 30th day of the 5th month of Uthmor the Giant in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''
	----I have rewritten this entry six times. My hand still shakes.		----I have rewritten this entry six times. My hand still shakes.
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	''— S. Mahlored''		''— S. Mahlored''

			----
⚫	= '''“When the Mana Answered Back”''' =

		⚫	=== '''“When the Mana Answered Back”''' ===
	''Written the evening of the 38th day of the 5th month of Uthmor the Giant in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''		''Written the evening of the 38th day of the 5th month of Uthmor the Giant in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''
	----I was prepared for the Arcane.		----I was prepared for the Arcane.
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	''— S. Mahlored''		''— S. Mahlored''

			----
⚫	= '''“The Edges of Myself”''' =

		⚫	=== '''“The Edges of Myself”''' ===
	''Written the morning of the 1st day of the 6th month of Arhat the Fire Lion in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''		''Written the morning of the 1st day of the 6th month of Arhat the Fire Lion in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''
	----Something is wrong.		----Something is wrong.
	Not with the stone — I’ve come to accept its presence, its humming, the subtle vertigo that comes when it pulses. Not even with the way animals watch me differently now. Not fear… not curiosity… something assessing.		Not with the stone — I’ve come to accept its presence, its humming, the subtle vertigo that comes when it pulses. Not even with the way animals watch me differently now. Not fear… not curiosity… something assessing.

		⚫	What’s wrong is me.
	Not with the stone — I’ve come to accept its presence, its humming, the subtle vertigo that comes when it pulses. Not even with the way animals watch me differently now. Not fear… not curiosity… something assessing.

⚫	What’s wrong is me.
	Today, I forgot Talia’s face.

	Today, I forgot Talia’s face.		Today, I forgot Talia’s face.
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	I tried to recite the sound of her laugh. I can picture her leaning back on the bridge near the Shard river, sunlight in her hair. But the sound — the warmth behind it — felt distant, like something I borrowed instead of lived.		I tried to recite the sound of her laugh. I can picture her leaning back on the bridge near the Shard river, sunlight in her hair. But the sound — the warmth behind it — felt distant, like something I borrowed instead of lived.
	The obsidian pulsed then.

	The obsidian pulsed then.		The obsidian pulsed then.
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	Tonight, as I ate, I realized I’d been sitting in the same position for nearly an hour, staring at nothing. The fire burned low. The night creatures had gone quiet, watching me with those reflective eyes from between the trees.		Tonight, as I ate, I realized I’d been sitting in the same position for nearly an hour, staring at nothing. The fire burned low. The night creatures had gone quiet, watching me with those reflective eyes from between the trees.
	When I finally moved, it felt like waking from someone else’s dream.

	When I finally moved, it felt like waking from someone else’s dream.		When I finally moved, it felt like waking from someone else’s dream.
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	Now I fear something far worse:		Now I fear something far worse:

	~~'''<big>~~Being rewritten.~~</big>'''~~		Being rewritten.

	If I lose Talia’s face again — if I lose the memory of why I seek the truth — then what remains of me?		If I lose Talia’s face again — if I lose the memory of why I seek the truth — then what remains of me?
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	''— S. Mahlored''		''— S. Mahlored''

			----
⚫	= '''“Becoming”''' =

		⚫	=== '''“Becoming”''' ===
	''Written the afternoon of the 32nd day of the 8th month of Skullcleaver the Dwarven Axe in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''		''Written the afternoon of the 32nd day of the 8th month of Skullcleaver the Dwarven Axe in the year of the Emerald Dolphin, 355 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.''
	----[[File:Sahrye Wild.png\|thumb]]It has been two months since I stepped through the doors of the Necromancer Guild as a trembling novice.		----[[File:Sahrye Wild.png\|thumb]]It has been two months since I stepped through the doors of the Necromancer Guild as a trembling novice.

ZYNACHI: /* Nightmare Sahrye Mahlored, Shield Warden */

2025-11-27T21:49:38Z

Nightmare Sahrye Mahlored, Shield Warden

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