The legends about these caves are true. I pray to the gods that I make it out of this accursed labyrinth.
August 22, Ethervale, Isle of Daemons
Dear reader, if you have found this journal, please do not presume me mad for what I am about to write.
My foolhardy journey through the caves ended some three days after my last entry. I emerged to find myself standing in a verdant grove of firs and white pines, in a landscape so lush it was almost rendered grotesque. Weakened by hunger and fatigue, I wandered for several miles until I stumbled upon the strangest spectacle of a city.
Vast chambers built into the cave rock, hanging gardens to rivalthose of ancient Babylon, a whole city carved into the ivory cliffs.
What I did not know then was that I had trespassed onto the isle of Daemons.
My untimely transgression into this forbidden city earned me a brief stay in Carcerus, the Ethervalean prison. After several weeks, I was presented to the ruler of the Ivory Court—Nymara Pax, the Bone Queen—a veritable Medusa in the flesh.
The Daemon Queen interrogated me about my discovery of Ethervale and my occupation in the mortal realm.
(After all, how secure could her city be if a fool such as I had stumbled upon it?).
At this point, I expected to be executed for my daring, but instead, Nymara named me as emissary to the Ivory Court under the name ‘Slyfoot.’ For the rest of my mortal existence, I must be Nymara’s loyal servant, an emissary forced to transport messages between the regent and the Bloodthorn Order—a society, as it turns out, that is led by Daemons.
Strange bedfellows, indeed.
I stepped away as Casimir read the next several pages detailing my father’s harrowing trips between Ethervale and the Isle of Lorn. Despite operating as an emissary under the protection of the Queen and Council, my father reported being tortured by Devereaux and Evren on more than one occasion. I was in no hurry to relive his torment by reading those passages again. A few minutes later, Casimir glanced up at me, his astonishment clearly written across his face.
“I assume you reached the December entry?” I hazarded a guess.
He swallowed heavily and shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
December 21, Ethervale, Isle of Daemons
My tenuous position as emissary has become exceedingly complicated—to speak bluntly, everything is fucked.
Dear reader, I have fallen in love with a Daemon. If you didn’t already, you must believe me foolish now.
Katerina was tasked with keeping a watchful eye on the troublesome mortal man whenever I visited Ethervale to relay messages. She was my spy, of all things. Katerina is Ereborn—low born, as far as Daemon castes are concerned— but I treasure her above all others.
It is a secret that, if discovered, would cost us our heads. Even now, I hesitate to write the truth of it. At the risk of sounding melancholic, I do not know what will become of our love, but I hope to remember this time with fondness, and never with regret.
The next entry was dated six months later.
June 11, Ouverham, Maine
First, shock: Katerina is pregnant. She told me three days ago. Neither of us knew such a thing was possible between mortals and Daemons. I am utterly undone by it all.
Second, terror: the council has named me as Keeper of a most guarded secret. Until the day of my demise, I must act as its sole protector (see footnote on page twelve for details).
The footnote, I knew, held the secret Devereaux had coveted for so many years, the same secret August had discovered mere weeks ago.A secret I have already sold, I thought. I trained my eyes back to the page Casimir was reading:
Every day, I waver between elation and anxiety. What will become of us should Nymara discover our secret? Will Katarina be punished? I lie awake at night, fear eating away at my sanity. In agony, I await my next assignment.
November 2, Ethervale
It is becoming increasingly difficult to conceal Katerina’s pregnancy from the spies at court. I am frantically making arrangements for us to flee. Once we are outside of the city, I am confident that Nymara will not bother sending her soldiers after us.
The baby, whom we have decided to call Arden, is expected to arrive in late March of next year. Katerina’s mother, an Ereborn midwife and Lucretia, a court Alchemist, are helping us to conceal the pregnancy. I am skeptical, but Katerina’s mother trusts her. And we need an Alchemist or Siphoner to perform glamours to keep Katerina’s pregnancy concealed.
March 12, Ethervale
With each day that passes, our situation becomes more precarious. Lucretia dosed one of Nymara’s guards with a potion to make him forget what he had seen after trespassing into our chambers by mistake.