I should report on all the happenings that occurred since Iorhael and I arrived at Undertowers with all the mad cooking and the reporter and the hat and the silliness and the invitations, but it all seems so far away now. All that matters is that, after a'maelamin and I spent a lovely time together last night, he woke at dawn with a terrible foreboding that trouble was brewing in the Realm, and that his time here was short . . . and I held him until his tears subsided and we drifted off to sleep together . . . and when I awoke, he was gone. Just gone. My poor Iorhael. And when he will return, I know not.
I'll just stare at the fire awhile, and try to compose myself. I don't want to bring everyone else down on Yestare, of all days. Of all days. I miss a'maelamin so already.