The Ivory Court. My walls are as pure as my father's are black, the light bounces and flowers with each step, goldstone glittering and shimmering with the many braziers’ flames. Nikolai has called this place his shining star, I tend to agree, for the climate allows for my gardens to flower and grow in ways that Minoc would never have allowed. The vines grow quickly, taking to the walls of the compound as if they mean to take over this otherwise foreign invader as if my walls offend them. It brings to light that I need to work on my earth magics, as while I enjoy working the plants themselves, dealing with the same vines several times over is tiresome and I hardly desire to waste time dealing with pests when I could be working on cultivating the plants that I intend to inhabit my realm.
My private garden has come along much more easily than the main one, it is larger, extending into the forest with pathways, small rivers and fauna that seem to help the altered vegetation take hold much easier. I have found exotic fruits and flowers that offer bright colours to the intensely rich green area, ones that highlight my nature, the locals have called them ‘birds of paradise’ and ‘Pomegranates’, I find the fruit to be delicious but more work than not for its pleasurable treasures inside. At the centre of this garden, there is a discrete memorial for those that I lost. For Dante, there is a lone wolf, howling to the sky, carved from pure ebony, for Nicky, a lone wolf pup in the shadow of the alpha, a statue of my sister with them, standing over them as if to protect them in their afterlife. They are all that I will remember for now, there is room to add Brynn if needed, I pray to the powers that it is not needed, but as time goes on- my hope dims.
Thus far, only Nikolai and I are allowed within this garden, and he has asked who these people, aside from Daddy, are. I have told him stories of my sister and me, the tragic story of the son that came before them. He has asked after his grandfather now and again, and I have yet to either confirm or deny if father is well. Mainly because that remains to be seen, father did not seem well at all when I saw him. I can hardly blame the man, save for me and my sisters, and his constant companion, our family, is incomplete. Eilanna’s body is gone, and most dear to him - his library has been taken with the times; a most sincere and abominable to the family as a whole. No, the Lord Knight is not well, and it would be best to keep such a volatile and sincerely cold being from my son for a time, at least until he has proven to be able to be kinder, even if it is a ruse, for my son’s sake.
During the great shift, the powers kept my son asleep until my temple had formed well, a blessing, but also a curse for the only goodbye he got from Dante had been a tear-filled kiss to the head before pushing us through the portal. We discuss that night now and again at bed time, and sometimes he fears waking without me only to be left to Alairia and Damon for the rest of his days. To hear such tales worries me though we have begun to study, for I am teaching him his familial history as well as Father’s language from the story books he had lent me prior to my leaving the Keep. I had been bright enough to copy down a number of tales, and most I have memorised. Those will be transcribed for Nikolai once he is old enough to read, for now we focus on just learning the language. He likes it, he says that not only is it simple, but that he finds the words pleasing. Such words remind me of my father, but he is kind like his own. I will miss Dante, but am oh so glad to have a piece of him here with me.
I have opened my home to my father and those of his house, provided Draven can behave himself with my subjects and worshippers, and hope that father will come soon. He is, understandably, anxious and wishes to ensure that my little sisters would be safe visiting upon me. I doubt he will come, as his loss has bee great and it tends to poke the wolves side of him when angered. This is not a side I desire to see, for perhaps he would cast against me again, and with these new powers- I do not know how well I could refrain from truly damaging the God. They seem to have a mind of their own, a will that tries to bubble over my own and consume me completely. More than once have I destroyed and remade my private quarters only to be left exhausted from the arcane output. I must speak with father about the finer points of what I am, for my innate self does not seem to agree with my arcane and divine being.
We will see.
For now, the tea is hot, and my son desires to hear of the hero Amrich and his adventures in the Underdark. If only he knew that the hero Amrich had once truly lived and that his adventures had been my own as well.