Journal Entry 19
Zaskja Stormsson
My Wolf,
Saga was wrong. Your father didn’t wait for an invitation to visit our valley.
He showed up on my doorstep this afternoon asking for a few minutes of my time. Not only did he apologize, but he wept, Nordin. Your father wept.
He misses you. Misses the unity and love that used to exist within your family before he and Sigrid scattered it to the wind.
I felt such pity for him. And not the good kind, for he brought this upon himself. HE broke all of us apart.
Pitiful episode aside, he said something that has been occupying my every thought since he left.
He said that if you acted against the majority’s decision, a war would break out among the packs.
Especially now that the Glaciers have amended their vote (which I know you’ve heard about, since you headed there after your meeting with Klovir).
Even if you convinced the Glacier Jarl to vote with you once more, we’d still be two against three. Please consider letting Tyron live?
For now…
And no, I’m not suggesting showing him mercy because tonight is your sister’s birthday party and I want to bathe her in love instead of blood. I’m suggesting this because I fear your father’s concern isn’t unwarranted.
Even if Ulf swore he’d do everything in his power to defuse any backlash, he cannot guarantee the others will listen to him.
Before he left, I asked him whose side he’d fight on should you take justice against Tyron into your own hands. He answered, “Yours.” He swore he would always fight at your side, whatever his opinion on the instigating incident.
I realize that you’re probably wondering, “Then why didn’t he lend his voice to mine in the first place?” Mor wonders this as well.
She’s coming with me tonight, and not just to celebrate Saga. She wants to discuss canceling the referendum with your father. Since Tyron’s a Vale, his fate ultimately rests in your father’s hands.
I’m leaving this letter on your bed in case you stop by your home before we meet tonight. Though perhaps you’ll go straight to the party from Meadowpoint, in which case, I’ll tell you all of this out loud, since I’m departing soon with Mor.
Nordin, my love, I understand you want the vampyrs to leave our skies, the same way I understand that they probably won’t if we don’t give them Tyron, but now that Taeric’s dead, it’s only a matter of time before they fall.
After all, Odin had no other descendants, so the wards around what’s left of Hasam?r have crumbled and cannot be rebuilt.
Our enemies are weak. Their menacing presence won’t last. But we will, for we have the Wilds. They cannot threaten us with starvation this time.
No matter what you decide, I’ll stand at your side, for I adore you more than life itself, but please think it through.
With all the love in my heart,
Zas
P.S. I heard you asked Mor for her blessing in case we decided to get married before my twenty-first birthday.
I heard she gave it to you. I cannot wait for us to speak our vows and ink our ears.
I adore you so much it hurts. How odd is that?
That something as beautiful as love would hurt? Shouldn’t it bring only joy?