Feastday, the 9th of Weeping, 3725

I find it ironic that these things are all transpiring within the month of Weeping. So fitting, in so many different cases. Perhaps the month is cursed and thus named for the sorrow it brought in times past.

Beyond my own personal struggles, Norrath has been stricken by first unruly vampires and now a plague. Over the few short days since it was discovered, more and more beings become infected with it - both living and undead it seems.

I've had to cure several people of their ailments as I've travelled, and even many in town. The Temple has become overrun with citizens that are ill from this disease, some of which we have been unable to cure. As a more combative priestess, I intend to investigate this matter further - thusfar I've been spared any sort of permanent damage from it.

Nature...Norrath is screaming in pain as so many of its children fall to this devistation. Sometimes when I am not working with the ill or adventuring, it becomes to overwhelming for me to handle, as if the entirety of my reality stops and becomes nothing but the sound and sensation of it.

I fear how life would be were I able to understand Norrath as crystal clear as that night Brodis revealed it to me.

Sadly, my mentor has become paranoid, and is loathe to leave his home now. When I venture there, I must heal myself of any ailments that I can, regardless of whether I am exhibiting symptoms before he will allow me inside.

Despite these setbacks, I've mastered the first trick he has set out to teach me - I've been able to disguise myself through magic as a Feir`Dal several times, though it is a small drain initially to do so. Even after working such into a foci to aid the casting, I'm rather at a loss for several long minutes. Hopefully as time passes I shall become better with these parlor tricks, at least enough to not feel dizzy.

With the plague about, it's become rather difficult to gather things needed to learn the arts of writing magic, and it looks to be a slower and longer road than I originally suspected.

There is much happening in my once simple life. So many things keep manifesting since that eve on the beach in Nektulos, this deep connection with the world so much sharper than what it was when I was just another Temple taught Fury.

Last eve, I was quite distracted by Norrath's weeping, sitting alone in the Raven with a glass of fayberry margarita to dull the sounds; I was not paying attention to my physical state, until a young woman named Meygan came into the tavern and drew my attention to it.

I was trying to understand what the flames were saying from their place in the hearth when she pointed out to me that I'd called up my absinthe-hued flames, and that I was somehow bending the hearthfire to do as my hand was. Realisation sat in, and it came to me that the strange conversation between myself and the flames was learning to do that - to sense the connection between the two of us, and learn how to use it for more than moment of distruction.

The chilling wind that seems to be a second cloak about me now is similiar, and after my discovery with the heartfire, I realised that it was merely an effect of my connection to the air and the unconsious use of that.

But, there are more vicitims needing to be treated, and a cure needing to be discovered - my time would be better spent concentrating on that than it is rambling in this little book. Amazing how talkative one becomes when one is without their confidant...