Another journal

You can find all the sections here.

It was obvious once you thought about it, and Becky had nearly said as much in the beginning. Emily’s parents were folk, she was born in the Sidhe. All the care taken to raise her had been as much to make her technically mortal enough as it had been to qualify her for the chosen one loophole.

Dry-Eyes had left shortly after dropping her little bomb, saying Emily probably had a lot to think about. She was right and Emily tried to think practically. How did this affect her plan? How did this affect her? She slipped off the bed, where she’d been sitting in a daze, and put on her clothes from Dry-Eyes’ village, which had been dried and folded neatly on her backpack, her knife belt and compass resting on top.

Emily wondered if she could do magic. What, or who, had her parents been? The only family she’d ever known had been Janice. Her parents were little more than anecdotes that, in the current light of things, were probably not true. That they’d been idealists and liked to travel were the only things that Emily could begin to consider fact.

Whatever possible personal abilities she might have, Emily did know she had magical objects. It was time to stop looking sideways at things in fear they’d disappear. She made the bed and solemnly laid her pack’s contents on the blankets.

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.