Evelyn Nightshade’s Private Journal

[Davetopia]

Chapter Two: Dreams and Foundations
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Journal Entry 8: The Dream Thickens

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This was more intense than the previous dreams.. more vivid. Real. The recurring dream that has been haunting my nights, leaving me feeling both intrigued and disturbed when I wake up. I feel compelled to put this dream into words, to try to make sense of the vivid images that play out in my mind while I sleep.

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It begins with me kneeling before the Hel Tree, a place that has become a symbol of power and mystique for me. Beside me lies a mound of Oricalicum, the essence of the stars corrupted by the dark energy that emanates from the tree. Unfamiliar faces surround the Hel Tree, performing rituals that are foreign to me. Chants echo in the air, carrying with them an eerie energy that sends shivers down my spine. But weirdly enough I feel as if I’m leading this ritual.

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In my hand, I hold a Blackened Heart of Arcanium, a symbol of both power and danger. As I watch, crimson-cosmic flames rise from the heart, dancing in intricate patterns that I can't fully comprehend. The flames seem to beckon me, urging me to take action. And so, with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity, I press the Arcanium heart into the liquifying mass of Oricalicum.

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As the heart merges with the metal, a sharp pain shoots up my arm, jolting my entire body. I can feel the heart gripping onto me, its presence becoming almost tangible. The once clear and glasslike Oricalicum transforms into a writhing, black mass, its movements both mesmerizing and horrifying. The pain persists, but strangely, it's accompanied by a sensation of acceptance. It's as though the pain itself is an initiation, a passage into something unknown.

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With a sudden rush, the pain dissipates, and I feel myself being pulled into the dark, amorphous mass. The Arcanium heart still beats in my hand, its rhythm matching the cadence of my own heart. My essence, my mana, my soul, and everything that defines me are absorbed into the blackness. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of fear and tranquility that's difficult to describe.

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And then, as if by some inexplicable force, the fear fades. The tranquility grows, enveloping me in a sensation of serenity and understanding. It's as if I've become one with the very essence of the Oricalicum, connected to its corrupted power in a way I never thought possible. In this consuming darkness, I find a strange sense of peace, a feeling that defies logic and explanation.

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And then, in the dream, I awaken. As myself, but not as me.

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Each time I have this dream, I wake up with a mix of emotions. There's a lingering sense of wonder and confusion, as well as a deep-rooted curiosity about the symbolism and meaning behind these images. Dreams are a doorway to our subconscious, a realm where our thoughts and fears intertwine in ways that often elude our waking minds. As I continue to explore the magical world around me, I can't help but wonder if these dreams hold some deeper significance, some message that's waiting to be uncovered.

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For now, I'll keep a journal of these dreams, piecing together their fragments in an attempt to decipher their hidden truths. Perhaps, in time, I'll find the key to understanding their meaning and how they might shape my path as a Magi.

I think I will make this into the first entry in the second chapter of my life.

Evelyn.

Journal Entry 9: The Crimson - Frontier Negotiations.

The realm of politics and diplomacy has begun to entwine itself more deeply into my life, as I found myself a witness to a crucial negotiation between two powerful figures. Princess Valerie Hemwick and Acantho, a scientist hailing from the enigmatic Final Frontier. The weight of their words and the implications of their alliance left an indelible mark on my thoughts.

As I stood there, a silent observer on the fringes of their conversation, the air seemed charged with an undercurrent of tension and intrigue. They spoke of a hidden alliance, an agreement that would bolster both of their forces in the long term. The implications of this alliance were significant, as it hinted at the intricate web of alliances and affiliations that span the ever-shifting landscape of Eternia.

Acantho's offering was two-fold – a Crystal of Undeath and a trunk filled with Nyctorre. The Crystal of Undeath was a potent artifact, and its significance wasn't lost on me. But it was the Nyctorre that brought an unexpected wave of unease. As I laid my eyes upon the blackened Arcanium, its visual similarity to the Black Heart of my recurring dreams sent shivers down my spine. The tendrils of fate seemed to weave tighter, connecting threads that I had yet to fully comprehend.

The negotiation was not without its uncertainties, but both parties came to an accord. The promise of mutual assistance echoed through their words, a testament to the complex dance of power and strategy that governs our world. As they reached an understanding, Acantho's departure was imminent. He explained that his latest creation, the AC-1-MC, a colossal Giant Robot, would soon be operational – a force to be reckoned with in the ever-evolving landscape of conflicts.

Throughout the meeting, I found myself poised to act, ready to step forward if any threats presented themselves. But it seems diplomacy was the order of the day, and the need for my intervention didn't arise. While I was there as a guard, my true role was that of a witness to the intricate maneuvers of diplomacy and negotiation, a world I'm still learning to navigate.

This interaction marked a new chapter in my journey. The seeds of my beginnings in the realm of politics and alliances have taken root, and I can't help but wonder what future encounters and challenges will await me as I continue to traverse these uncertain waters.

Evelyn

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Journal Entry 10: The Confided Revelation

The recent events have left me in a state of contemplation and unease. The weight of destiny presses upon me, and the lines between reality and dreams have become blurred. I found myself confiding in Princess Valerie Hemwick, seeking solace and guidance amidst the tumultuous currents of my thoughts.

In a moment of vulnerability, I shared with her the vivid dreamscape that has haunted my nights. The Hel Tree's entire existence playing out in a matter of seconds. Starting as a small sapling, and shooting towards the sky, and breaking through a layer of crust above. Then, all at once shrinking once more to its original seedling. I found standing beside a huge mound of Oricalicum, while unfamiliar faces engaged in rituals that defied understanding. The sensation of plunging an Black Metal Heart into the blackened mass, the pain and the subsequent peace, - with renewal. All were laid bare before her.

Valerie listened with a comforting presence, her words like a soothing balm for my troubled mind. Yet, her response carried a weight that I hadn't expected. She suggested that these dreams might not be mere dreams at all, but rather premonitions of events to come. The realization struck me with a mix of fear and acceptance.

Valerie's insight painted a grim picture – a sacrifice, a binding of fates, a weaving of destinies. It became clear to me that these dreams were a harbinger of a future that awaits me. A future where the Hel Tree's hunger for power would be satiated, and I might be the price paid for the continued evolution of our world.

The burden of this knowledge is heavy, yet I find myself strangely resigned. The threads of fate have been spun, and I am but a thread woven into the grand tapestry of existence. To resist would be to fight against the inevitability of it all. So, with a heavy heart, I accept what may come, knowing that my path has been set.

Valerie's presence proved to be both a source of solace and illumination. As if in response to my thoughts, she produced a piece of Nyctorre, the very essence we obtained during our negotiation with the Final Frontier's head scientist. As I held it in my hand, an odd sensation overcame me – a tugging, as if this piece of Nyctorre was apart of the very same Black Heart from my dream.

Time seemed to warp and shift around me, and suddenly, I found myself back at the base of the Hel Tree in that surreal dreamscape. The connection between the Nyctorre and the Black Heart was undeniable, and it left me in awe of the mysteries that exist beyond our understanding.

Valerie's kindness extended further, allowing me to keep the Nyctorre, for the time being. Grateful for her support and guidance, I said my goodbyes and retired to my quarters. Before sleep claimed me, I imbibed a sleeping potion, holding the Nyctorre close. And then, in slumber's embrace, I ventured once more into that vivid dreamscape.

Evelyn

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Journal Entry 11: The Dream Realm's Revelation - Cursed Exchange

Today has been a whirlwind of experiences that have left me both physically and mentally drained, yet strangely invigorated. It's amazing how quickly life can change when one delves into the mysteries of the occult. As I sit here in the dim light of my study, penning down my thoughts, I can't help but reflect on all that has transpired.


The day began like any other, with the sun casting its warm glow upon the world outside. Little did I know that a series of events would soon unfold, leading me to the chambers of the enigmatic Lord of Slumber, Eranath. With my heart pounding and determination coursing through my veins, I requested an audience with Eranath, seeking answers to the questions that had plagued my mind.

The conversation that followed was as cryptic as it was enlightening. Eranath's words held a weight of knowledge and power that I could scarcely comprehend. We spoke of the Hel Tree, the very essence of my existence as an orphan blessed by its magic. Eranath seemed to possess insights into the tree's connection with me, a connection that ran deeper than I had ever imagined.

As our discussion unfolded, Eranath proposed a pact—a pact that would grant me access to the Dream Realm, a place where I could seek the truths hidden within my dreams. But as with all pacts with demons, there was a price to pay. Eranath's request was no small matter; he asked that I willingly bear the curse of "Rotting Slumber," a curse that would deprive me of restful sleep and alter my essence in ways I could not fully fathom. With both trepidation and resolve, I agreed to the terms, knowing that this path could lead me to the knowledge I so desperately sought.

Before I knew it, I was engulfed in a sensation of drowsiness, my surroundings fading away as I fell into the Dream Realm. The dreamscape was a realm of surrealism, where reality and unreality intertwined in bewildering ways. As Eranath guided me through this ethereal landscape, I saw fragments of the answers I sought—a Hel Tree that shifted from sapling to towering growth, enigmatic figures chanting words I could only partially comprehend, and the promise of power hidden within Oricalchum.

But it was the Blackened Heart, the Nyctorre, that held the most profound revelations. With each vision, its significance deepened, and I could sense that it was more than a mere artifact—it was a key to unlocking truths that lay beyond the reach of mortal understanding.

The dreamscape took an unexpected turn, the essence of the Nyctorre pulling me deeper into its core. I was consumed by a maelstrom of sensations, the lines between dream and reality blurring into an indistinguishable haze. I felt the pull of the Nyctorre's power, the sensation of my very being merging with its essence. It was a moment of surrender, of allowing myself to become one with the Heart, to embrace the destiny that awaited.

When I awoke, the curse was upon me, a restless energy coursing through my veins. The weight of sleeplessness bore down on me, yet I felt strangely alive, as though the curse had brought me closer to the truth that lay beyond the veil of reality. Eranath's presence lingered in the air, a reminder of the pact we had forged and the knowledge I had gained.

As I gaze out of my window, the first light of dawn painting the sky in hues of gold and pink, I am filled with a sense of purpose. This journey into the occult has only just begun, and I am ready to embrace whatever challenges and revelations lie ahead. The Nyctorre's beating heart rests against my chest, a reminder of the connection we share and the mysteries it holds.

In the end, I am reminded that the pursuit of knowledge comes with sacrifices, and every step forward is a step into the unknown. But with each challenge overcome, I grow stronger, more attuned to the currents of the occultic realm. And as I face the uncertain path before me, I do so with a heart brimming with determination and a soul hungry for the truths that await.

May the journey continue, and may the mysteries of the occult unfold before me like pages in a forbidden tome.

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Journal Entry 12: Unveiling Shadows - A Conversation with Greg Oldman


Whilst traveling in the wilds, I encountered a man that was getting the absolute shit kicked out of him by Chuggums. So, I stepped into the ring and assisted in subduing the overgrown rabbit. Thusly, fate presented itself today with an interesting conversation with Greg Oldman, the enigmatic and knowledgeable wanderer. Which has left me with a mix of fascination and unease. Our discussion touched upon various extinct races that once inhabited our world, and one particular mention sent chills down my spine—the Mimics, beings of black tar-like substance capable of shapeshifting into people.

As Greg described them, the Mimics were a race that could mimic the forms of others, a power that eerily resonated with my own experiences. Could it be that the blackened heart of the Nyctorre, the very essence that has haunted my dreams, is somehow connected to these Mimics? It's a haunting thought—the idea that the source of my curses might be tied to an ancient, extinct race capable of such uncanny abilities.

The memory of my recurring dream resurfaces—the Nyctorre's heart, the shapeshifting form, the inscrutable words whispered in an otherworldly language. Could it have been a glimpse into the past, a time when these Mimics roamed our world? Were the words spoken a part of their rituals, their language, or something else entirely?

This revelation has intensified my determination to uncover the truth. I feel a deep urge to learn more about the Mimics, to delve into the history of this extinct species and its connection to the Nyctorre. What knowledge lies hidden within the annals of forgotten texts and ancient tomes? What secrets might the magical realms still hold?

My path is set—I will seek out any trace, any mention, any fragment of information about the Mimics. I'll scour libraries, converse with scholars, and consult those who possess arcane knowledge. If these beings once existed and shaped the world with their abilities, there must be records, stories, or legends that hold clues to their nature and their ultimate fate.

The pieces of this puzzle are slowly coming together, revealing a tapestry of interconnectedness that spans across time and reality. With every revelation, I find myself drawn deeper into the mystery, my curiosity fueled by both the thrill of discovery and the urgency of understanding the forces that have bound me to the Nyctorre.

As I embark on this new quest for knowledge, I can't shake the feeling that I am on the precipice of something profound. The Mimics may be long extinct, but their echoes resonate through the ages, leaving behind riddles that demand to be unraveled. My journey continues, and with each step, I inch closer to the heart of these enigmatic beings and the truth that they may hold.

The shadows of the past are starting to come to light, revealing hidden truths that have the potential to reshape our understanding of the world. It's a daunting task, but one that I am committed to pursuing with unwavering determination. As I dive deeper into the forgotten history of the Mimics, I hope to illuminate not only their story but also my own and the role I am destined to play in the unfolding saga of our world.

It's me, again - Evelyn.
P.S. Who else would be in here?

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Journal Entry 13: Spat - Memory Linked - Witchcraft

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The ever-present tension between exhaustion and duty is beginning to take its toll on me. The hours blend together in a haze of activity, my mind and body locked in a relentless pursuit of progress. I thought I was managing, that I was capable of shouldering this unending burden alone. But tonight, an argument with Scytha revealed the folly of that belief.

It began with a simple suggestion, a well-intentioned plea for me to get some rest. Scytha, ever the voice of reason, implored me to take a break, to allow my weary body and mind a reprieve. But her words, while well-meaning, failed to acknowledge the reality that has gripped me for weeks – the Sleepless Eyes Curse. I felt a spark of irritation, my exhaustion and frustration bubbling to the surface. I snapped back at her, a sharp retort that reflected the pent-up emotions I've been grappling with.

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Looking back, I realize that I was being unfair. Scytha couldn't possibly understand the curse that has shackled me to this sleepless existence, stealing away the solace that sleep should bring. She couldn't fathom the way in which it has turned my nights into an endless cycle of struggle and longing. And yet, in my exhaustion-fueled irritation, I neglected to explain the truth behind my sleeplessness.

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As I pen these words now, the guilt gnaws at me. Scytha is a dear friend, one who has stood by me through countless challenges. To have spoken to her so sharply feels like a betrayal of that bond. And so, I resolve to find a way to mend what has been strained.

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Surprisingly, it seems that fate has a way of granting redemption. Not long after our argument, Scytha approached me with a proposition that left me both stunned and hopeful. She offered to Memory Link herself to me, to project her own experiences and knowledge of witchcraft into my mind. In doing so, she hoped to teach me the ways of a witch without the need for the traditional initiation ritual. It was an unexpected and generous offer, one that speaks volumes about the depth of our friendship.

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Her gesture has ignited a renewed sense of purpose within me. To be given the opportunity to grow, to learn, and to harness the magical energies that lie dormant within me is a gift beyond measure. And as I prepare to step into the world of witchcraft, I find myself fueled by a determination to prove myself. To evolve from the sleep-deprived caterpillar I have been and emerge from this cocoon of challenges as a transformed, empowered butterfly.

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The path ahead is undoubtedly fraught with uncertainty and challenges, but I am resolved to face them head-on. With Scytha's guidance, the support of the Denath Coven, and the promise of newfound magic, I feel as though I am on the cusp of a pivotal transformation.

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As I close this journal entry, I can't help but reflect on the ebb and flow of life's challenges and opportunities. From an argument born of exhaustion to a pledge of mentorship and growth, it's a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there exists the potential for something extraordinary.

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Evelyn Nightshade

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Journal Entry 14: Coven of Mori - Cicada.
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The realms of witchcraft have an undeniable allure, a captivating dance of magic and mystery that weaves through the tapestry of reality. As each day unfolds, I find myself drawn deeper into its intricate threads, exploring new avenues of power, knowledge, and connection. And today, I bore witness to a ceremony that has left me awestruck, humbled, and profoundly moved.

Cicada, a friend I've come to know as an Ookami girl, stood at the crossroads of her destiny as she embarked on a journey that would forever bind her to the Mori Coven. The Fledgling Witch Ritual, a rite of passage that I had heard whispers of but had never truly comprehended until now, unfolded before my very eyes. As I stood among the gathered witches, my heart thrummed with a mixture of excitement and reverence.

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The ritual was a symphony of magic, a dance of words and energies that resonated with the very essence of the coven. Led by Morrigan, the High Witch of the Mori Coven, the ceremony imbued Cicada with the essence of their coven's magic, intertwining her fate with their ancient legacy. It was a visceral reminder of the potent forces that bind witches to one another, to their patrons, and to the very world around them.

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As incantations filled the air, tendrils of magic wrapped around Cicada, embracing her in an ethereal embrace that transcended the mundane. Her eyes, aglow with the shimmering energies that enveloped her, mirrored the intensity of the moment. And then, with a radiant flourish of her hand, Cicada etched her name into the Book of Shadows, sealing her pact with the Mori Coven.

I watched in awe as the book itself responded, its pages shifting and shimmering as if welcoming a new chapter. It was as if the coven itself acknowledged her presence, recognizing her as one of their own. And as Morrigan's words reverberated in the air, it became clear that Cicada was not just joining a coven; she was becoming a part of a lineage that spanned centuries, a lineage that held the accumulated knowledge and power of generations past.

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In that moment, I felt a deep appreciation for the world of witchcraft that I had stumbled upon. It was a world where magic was not just a mere illusion, but a tangible force that shaped destinies and defied limitations. And as Cicada emerged from the ritual, her aura transformed, a reflection of her newfound connection to the Mori Coven's magic.

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The experience left me inspired and reflective, as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes, revealing the true extent of what it meant to be a witch. The journey ahead is fraught with challenges and mysteries, but it's also filled with the promise of growth, camaraderie, and the unearthing of secrets that lie dormant within the very fabric of the world.

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As I close the pages of this journal entry, I'm filled with a sense of gratitude for the paths that have converged in my life. The Denath Coven and the Mori Coven, two distinct but interconnected realms of magic, have opened their doors to me, inviting me to explore, to learn, and to discover the boundless potential that resides within.

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And as I step forward, embracing the magic that courses through me, I can't help but feel that the journey has only just begun.

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Evelyn Nightshade

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