Entry from Marina's Journal:

The moon shines so beautifully this eve, castings its light down upon the Tower and creating a scene of beauty that often times leaves me breathless. My love truly does have an eye for the elegant and softly spoken beauty that exists in the world. Tokuto is sleeping, nestled in my arms while I sit out in Suhnaye's garden. He's so beautiful when he sleeps. My new born son is a blessing to me. He's given me a reason to hope again. With so much despair in the world that surrounds me, I find it often times hard to keep my head up and a smile on my lips. Gwynevere has come home, though. She's been through so much. My prayers were always with her, hoping she would be all right in the end. And she is now.

The Tower is its usual playful self; changing rooms at its own whim and will. Just the other day, it placed Tokuto's bedroom in the garden outside Gwynevere's old room. I went to go check on him, and I found the cow pasture on the third floor where Suhnaye made his room. I was livid with fear that my baby boy had been placed elsewhere. But the Tower chuckled as I felt that maternal fear swell up inside me, and I knew it had taken a liking to the new addition to the family.

Suhnaye, as usual, is locked up in his study, going over scrolls of Ackleberry he had procured from a passing traveler. I read them and told him they were simply tales. He, like the man I love him for, smiled and kissed me on the cheek before bustling passed me and straight for the library. He's such a loving man. A wonderful father and a heartfelt husband. I thank Father for his presence in my life.

Deas stopped by today as well with Tenat in tow, their young baby absent and at their home probably snuggled up with Deas' dryad. She is a loving mother, and Deas has grown up to be a strong and handsome young man. Lyth, as well, has turned out to be a truly blessed man, in his own right. I regret never giving him the chance in the beginning, but as they say, all good things come to fruit on their own time.

I've not received a prophecy or vision for some time, save for the shared moments with Father. In a way, I thank the gods for such a blessing of peace. Being rogue has been a blessing in its own right, as well. I've no one to answer to; coming and going as I please. Truly, it is certainly a blessing.

I do sense change, however. Its emminent in its existence; quiet and complacently watching like it were a cat eyeing a ball of yarn it found perfectly pouncable. I wonder where the change will take place. I pray it will lead to the embetterment of mankind, and give peace to those who seek peace and silence to those who seek silence.

The Tower is now fussing about dinner that's ready to be pulled from the kitchen's oven. Until next time, keep my secrets well.

Marina Allaei Whytetower