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This diary bears a similar, but evolved handwriting from the old one, which no longer exsists. It has a blue cover, with nothing written on it. In the inside cover are two letters only: "RF". Inside, some words are written...

I don't know what made me think to pick up writing again. I destroyed my other diary, and every other word I've ever written, almost six months ago, and I don't know what exactly has made me feel it is time to write again, but somethng has made me feel this way and so I shall.

I don't think I need to set down my history here; I am certain I will remember everything that has happened since the last time I wrote it down, because it has changed me so much. On the pages of my other diary, the one I will think of now as the diary of my childhood, I tried time and again to define what "growing up" must mean. For so long I had the urge to become an adult, and now I think it may be happening, without me even noticing it. I think I might have an idea of what it means, now. When you grow up, the things that happen to you, and around you, start to change you. Sometimes they are good changes; sometimes they are bad changes; sometimes they are in the middle, and sometimes they appear to be one thing when they're really another. The hardest part, is accepting that once something happens it cannot be taken back. Things are as they are, no more no less. It is very hard for me to accept this. I guess I always bore the notion that I could change the world, if I did all the right things. Along the way somewhere I became confused, about just what the "right things" were. I still don't know, but at least now I am aware that I'm unaware, if that makes any sense.

I guess it is possible for one person, doing good things to change the world. I know Caitlin did this, manyfold, but I can't write about her too much yet. The pain of loss is still too near to my heart. There is somethng I have been finding out, though. To change the world, you hae to start in the present, and not in the past. Sometimes for me this has been the most painful thing to try to understand. Even now, I find myself doing things I know I shouldn't because of a desire to right what's already been.

I wish Caitlin was here; I wish anyone was here that I could talk to. I have so many questions, and no one I know is quite the right person to ask them of.

My first question is about giving up, letting go. I still can't tell the difference between them. When you are trying to heal a man who is clearly in pain, whose condition only worsens as you work; who bears no more will to live due to his pain: What do you do? If you let him die, have you done the wise thing by letting him go when the fight to save him will bear him only pain and no life? Or are you giving up; abandoning the slim hope the man has to recover and to continue to live his life. Even when you know the difference, and know what to do, how is it possible to simply accept that in essense, you had to kill a man to save him? I don't know if I could do it. I might have to, soon. I don't want to think about that, but I know I have to. I have to stop being a child and ignoring the things that trouble me. I have to decide, give up or let go?

I have other questions too; simpler ones, I guess, but ones that seem even more difficult than the question of life or death to me. I feel different lately, about boys. I remember not more than a year ago thinking they were "icky", and recently I began to think they weren't so bad after all. Now, I notice a different feeling sometimes. Like a hot blush, only it covers my entire body, and I feel strange and lightheaded. Sometimes, I even look at a boy and imagine kissing him. Not on the cheek, but really kissing him. Like grown-ups do. Like people in love do. I feel embarrased about this most of the time, and so I've been trying to avoid boys lately. I'm afraid they'll see me blush and know that I am thinking about kissing. There was that thing that Mairead and I learned about, too. I'm still confused about it. I wish I had someone to explain it to me. I wonder if boys really have that... that part? But even if they do, it might not make them entirely disgusting. After all, you can't even see it unless they're naked; that wouldn't interefere with kissing them, right? Oh, I wish I could just ask someone, but I know I never can. I can't ask my father, he wouldn't understand at all, and I certainly can't ask Dimhyd. Besides, I don't know where he is lately anyway. He has been away since the beginning of the war.

And on top of all that, there's the matter of the Many, the portal, the traitor.

Why do I feel like I am missing some vital key to the whole puzzle?

Today I talked to the archmages. They said I could never become a mage.

I guess this is hard for me to accept, to absorb. For a very long time now, I have dreamed of such a thing.

However, fate works in strange ways.

When my mother had first begun telling me about the gods, I was fascinated, and there was a tugging at my spirit, almost like a gentle hand guiding me, and I wanted nothing more than to learn about them, to study them, to commune with them. For Elara in partiular I have always had much respect.

The archmages told me that while I would never be able to become a mage, the traits of a priest were strong in me. I mentioned Elara, and they seemed pleased. They seemed to think that to become learned in the art of priesthood, under Elara's name, would suit me.

It is a matter I must consider very carefully.

I still feel certain that the archmages must have been wrong. After all, have people not told me that they can feel potential within me? I will speak to them again, on a day when I am feeling better, since I was after all weak and ill on the day that I spoke with them.

I am fourteen now, and I know that soon, very soon, I must decide what path I will take in life. I cannot believe all the roads I looked down and even took a few steps down just until this point. When I was very small, I was certain that I would grow to be a princess, but by the time I was six or seven I had abandoned this dream to the inevitable knowledge that I would not live long enough, in my father's house, to choose a path. When I came to Gobaith, I wanted to impress my brother and so I determined that I would become a swordswoman. After that, I met Pendar and Caitlin, and vowed to become a druid, and then realized that I would love to become a writer instead. Still after this, I began learning the art of the dagger from Kamik, and thought I might take a similar path to his, that of a mercenary. After that began my descent into darker days, where I played with the idea of becoming a necromancer, and then of following the blood God, Moshran. I never seriously considered that path for any of my own convictions; it was more that I had lost all hope and didn't know what to do with my life besides throw it away. Now I do not know exactly how I feel, but it is time for me to decide.

Should I strain to learn the arts of magic despite the archmages' words? Should I heed their wisdom, and instead become a priestess of Elara, whom I have always admired? Or should I train under my father and under Athian to become a warrior? Would Kamik still teach me the art of the dagger now that he has wed and moved away? Or is my dream of writing still an option?

I'm torn right now. One one hand, I feel grown-up, now that it is time to make my own decisions. On the other hand, I am so confused and I have no idea which avenue to pursue, and I almost wish someone would choose for me. Of course there have been offers to choose a path for me, but I think I've finally learned my lesson about people that offer to write my life for me.

But there is still the matter of Aokan.

I've neglected writing in this book for a while, because I was too busy with my studies at the Academy. So, yes, the archmages did accept me after all.

It is always strange to me how much can change in a short period of time, and already since my last entry, things have changed so much.

Grief is a funny thing. Sometimes you have so much of it that it can't show itself, no matter how badly you need it to. I've been grrieving for the Aokan I once knew ever since he changed. I know that Aokan, my Aokan, my brother, has been dead a long time. Now he is truly dead in body as well. I don't know if I am sad or not about this. The truth is, I've known for some time now that the Aokan that I've been seeing is a different Aokan; a shell, empty of the things that made him a good person. It's almost as if some different, darker Aokan took over one day. Perhaps that *is* what happened. I don't know. The feeling now, either way, is strange. Do I grieve, or rejoice? I think right now I am doing both.

The last Aokan committed was the worst thing imaginable. I suspected that his plan involved something like this; that's why I warned Kamik. I don't think I ever thought he would follow through. I don't think I believed, even with all the changes he had gone through, that Aokan was capable of such a monstrous act. I still can't believe it. Some thigns are not as they appear, I suppose. I want to help Kamik, because it frightens me to see someone whose eyes are so empty; they are empty like Aokan's became towards the end, but I know the reasons are not the same. I guess that there is nothing I can do now. The past is done, as I've learned over and over again.

Not everything that has changed is a bad thing. I think I have a boyfriend now. And I've had my first real kiss... well, four of them actually. His name is Gordwayn, and I really like him. He's very smart (He's in the academy, too) and he blushes a lot, which I think is.. well.. cute. I'm still the same as always in that way, though. No matter how long I can talk about books or history, or how many stories I know how to tell, I never know what to say to boys. I feel different around them, like I'm suddenly stupid and don't know how to talk anymore. It gets a little better each time, though. By the time Dimhyd left I was able to be myself around him, and I hope this will happen with Gordwayn soon. I try, I really do, it's just that I'm afraid if I act the way I normally would, he will think I'm silly or stupid, and won't like me anymore. I mean, he must like me because he thinks I'm smart, too. It can't be because of the way I look. I'm not pretty like Mairead or Ruby or Emily. I'm thinner than them, and paler, and my face is plainer, and who likes plain gray eyes? The only thing I kind of like about how I look is my hair -- not the color, black is plain and boring, but at least it's long, and sort of shiny. I guess it's not so awful. It doesn't make up for the rest of me, though. Sometimes I think I look like a pencil sketch, all in shades of gray.

I'd like to write some more, but I still have to study my notes on runes. I want to know them by heart for my next lesson.

Everything is so confusing.

The previous page is torn out.

I'm so stupid. Sometimes I just don't know what to do and when I try to figure it out everything just goes hopelessly wrong. I wish my mother was here. I wish I had someone... It's useless though, it's useless to wish for things that you just obviously aren't meant to have.

I don't know how I'll ever become a mage or a priest now. Before I was worried about deciding which path I wanted to take, and now it doesn't look like I'll have time time or the ability to do either. Sometimes I don't even care, anymore.

A lot of the time lately, when I'm alone I feel like this. Hopeless, and frightened. I don't know if I can do all the things I have to, and I worry about not being good enough... not being good enough for myself, mostly. The only times, really... that I've felt better lately is when I'm talking to Gordwayn... but I think I've been messing that up lately.

Maybe it doesn't matter if I'm happy or not. Maybe that's such a small part of anything that I shouldn't even try anymore. It might be best if I just concentrated on what I have to do instead of worrying about being happy, or making other people happy. In a hundred years, it won't matter anyway, right?

I'm going to sleep now. Maybe in the morning things will make more sense.