I’ve spent this time diving into my sister’s journals. She was like a scientist… but with her own magical powers. She was mixing strange concoctions infused with her power and testing the make up of them. She was honing her skills until she could pick them apart to understand the very composition of what we can do.
You see, Journal… If I look back over these last few days with her… I have tortured Sable. She has taught me why she trusts this ethereal third party of our adventure; because he is the only one whom she can rely on every time she has ever called out to him. He answers her regularly; surprising even her.
It’s weird to think right now that I actually have a shot at making up for it all. That the blood could be wiped clean, that I could be redeemed. I don’t know how it works, but considering the power that has sank within my belly since that day… Oh, Journal. You don’t know about it. I haven’t had the chance to tell you about the bizarre outcome to our days together. Oops.
So, once all the rage and crying and confusion was over and done with, we had an entire book JUST on my past. And it covered everything. From cult torture, to depressed immortal trying to test the power of his newfound life against how badly he wanted to die, to the birth and growth of the trickster. Then, once we said good-bye to the half angel, the arch demon decided I needed to find a productive way to avoid this event ever happening again. To which, I wholeheartedly despised.
It has been twenty four hours. One day. That’s it. That is all the time that has passed. Do you want to know how it’s gone with Sable in these twenty four hours? Let me tell you. Not. Well.