Zephan;
I hate uncertainty.
I hate it more than war. More than arguments, more than politics, and the endless stupidity of nobles who think power makes them intelligent.
At least war is honest. And battles make sense—Someone wins. Someone loses. Blood spills, and the outcome becomes clear, eventually.
But this?
This feels like trying to hold water in a basket.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
I stare at the shattered parchments across the room, and my jaw tightens again.
I threw them there an hour ago. Maybe two.
I cannot tell anymore.
My room is dark except for the lantern near the window, and even that faint light irritates me tonight. Everything has been irritating or recent.
The silence, the uncertainty…My own thoughts.
I lean back further against the chair and drag a tired hand down my face.
Asa… No… The witch.
Even now, I do not know what name I'm supposed to use for her.
