Sanctuary

Rand's Journal: Amelia


[Excerpts from Rand’s journal, many years ago]

(Shaky handwriting)
It’s fucking cold. I’ve split from the others now, and left the city. The project Eamon’s had me working on was a binding. The glyphs he had me hunting down were for it, and I found the last of them. Was going to be writing it in the ash of a drowned fire on a babe. Eamon said I’d done good work – I’d be rewarded, apparently. Told me that the Master would teach me when She’d grown older on this plane. Took me to see the babe. She was a tiny useless pink thing, gurgling and unknowing. Couldn’t do a thing for herself. Eamon and I were going to be turning her into a vessel for the Master, and her body would be Hers. Couldn’t live for herself. Decide for herself. Parents sacrificed by Eamon. I took the babe and ran.

Sitting by a fire in the nape of a fucking hillside trying to keep child warm. No idea if Eamon can track me. Set up what precautions I can. Need to keep child safe. I don’t know what it is about her, Eamon said she’s the one. The voices are telling me I need to keep moving, but I need rest. Been running for a day and a night and the babe needs food and sleep. Best I’ve got for her is the slop I stole when I ran.
Wish she’d stop fucking crying.

(End of journal entry)
-
(Normal handwriting)
Found an inn. Less cold than the hillside. Not sure where in the world I am, but the girl at the bar said we’re in the North in a town called Muck. Only took a bit of coercion to get a room for the night. Old man behind the bar had a spine though. Babe’s hidden in my coat, staying warm and hidden.
More precautions on the room. No word or sending from Eamon. Not even anything from Cal. I bet he went straight to Eamon and took my spot. Good thing I burned my notes, aside from my journal.

(End of journal entry)
-
(Normal handwriting, several entries later)
We’re making good progress West. The babe’s quiet, and growing fast. She’s learned to hold onto things.
Took a carriage for us. Easier on her when she’s not outside. Cries less.
He keeps asking me why I’m doing this. Tells me I won’t help her, that I’ll ruin her. Bastard.
In the next town, I’ll find an orphanage. Somewhere safe.

(End of journal entry)
-
(Normal handwriting, several entries later)
If father could see me, he’d tell me to leave her. Move on and find the fight, for the Empire. Like I’d join the army that murders mages. Got himself killed trying to kill mages. Fool.

Found an orphanage. Shithole. Demanded to view their facilities. Not enough. The girl needs something better than they can provide. Woman in charge was an awful cow.
I’ll find somewhere for her in the next town.

(End of journal entry)
-
(Years later)
Amelia said her first word today.
“Papa”

(End of journal entry)

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