Winter 3rd, 511 AV
Father has been worrying me. Some days, he is gone for hours. I cannot fathom where he goes. I stay up late for him to come home so that I may serve him supper, and he inspects each spoonful too carefully. What is he looking for? He has never done this before. I don't know what has happened between us. He no longer looks me in the eye, and he rarely speaks to me any longer. What have I done?
Winter 4th, 511 AV
Last night I awoke to him pacing around the common room. His four arms were digging through everything we owned; I could tell he was looking for something, but what? The fact he hadn't bothered to ask me for help worried me even more. He kept glancing behind himself anxiously. My door creaked loudly when I brushed against it so I had to quickly hurry into bed and feign sleep when he came to check.
When I awoke again in the morning, he was gone. He hadn't even had breakfast. Nothing was out of place in the kitchen, and he had even forgotten to add more wood to the hearth. He never forgot. I went to the temple with even more urgency today for the daily sermon. The Voice was speaking today. She was a sight to behold, with her milky white eyes and perfect face that made me wonder if there was anything more beautiful than her. Looking upon her was looking upon divinity, and it took my breath away. For a moment it almost felt like she was staring right through me. I had never felt anything like it before.
After the sermon I prayed for my father's safety. I never knew him to gamble, but I could only fathom that he had gambling debts. Nothing else would make him as antsy as he had been.
Winter 5th, 511 AV
An acolyte approached me today, after the sermon. Her name had been Seandria Porte. She was a beauty, too. Of course, I favor men over women, but I know beauty when I see it. Her single white eye only enhanced her features, and it was almost a pity that the other held pupil and iris. She had asked me if I was, in fact, Valentina re Bisret, daughter of Rokhe re Bisret. I replied yes; but the question scared me. She led me past black marbled halls and dark, heavy doors to what felt like an office, with an intricately carved desk and exotic furs covering the floor like the faded rug in my room. She sat, but I stood. I didn't believe it my place to sit in the same room as an acolyte of the Black Sun.
I was exceedingly nervous. I knew this meeting had to do with my father, I just hadn't known how much. Worse than my worst fears were confirmed: they believed my father to be affiliated with the Rising Dawn. They had known of my aspirations to join the ranks of the Black Sun, and now was the perfect chance for me to prove my worth. The only catch was that I had to poison my own father.
I am overjoyed that I have a chance; I was so scared that I wasn't enough to serve Rhysol so faithfully in the ranks. I know it's worth sacrificing my father for, but am I ready to make that sacrifice? I don't know. I am anxious like a child on the eve of their birth, anticipating the events of the next day. But I know my father. He couldn't be part of the Rising Dawn...could he? But he must be. I should have noticed when he stopped attending sermons with me. Oh, no one knows how much I want him to live. But the Rising Dawn is a collective of terrorists that don't understand the joy that Rhysol can bring, and they must be eliminated.
Winter 8th, 511 AV
I have been feeding father the poison for two days, now. He's noticed how much weaker he's become. I told him it was a simple cold, and that bed rest should heal him. He believed me. It breaks my heart that I am lying to the man who raised me, that I am poisoning my own father. But it is my duty as a citizen of Ravok. This is what I must do for the good of Rhysol.
Winter 11th, 511 AV
I must spoon feed him for all of his meals, now. He is too weak to chew any normal food so I must make soup for his every meal. I don't think he knows that it is I doing this to him. Not me, not his lovely daughter. The pain of this betrayal eats away at my heart like the poison eats away at him. It is only for the sake of Ravok that I continue feeding him his death in every spoonful, every bite. I care for him, I truly do. Death is the only way to cleanse his sins, now. If I cared for Rhysol any less then I would find an antidote and save him, but Rhysol is my true father. Rhysol cares for me more than father ever did. That's evident by the fact that he even considered endangering my life by affiliating himself with the evils of the Rising Dawn.
Winter 12th, 511 AV
He found the strength to speak today. I don't know how; he's almost dead. Just speaking probably pushed him that much closer to death. He only said one word, with a look of horror on his face, "You." Isn't it wonderful? I feel like the betrayal was complete with that single word. He finally realized. He was only in his 40s, and that's no time for sickness to befall someone. It took him long enough to notice that I was feigning worry; that I wasn't even thinking about taking him to a healer. He was never very good at paying attention.
Winter 13th, 511 AV
Father died today. News of his death was carried quickly by Ravosala, brought by me after the daily sermon. I had missed that past couple of days of the sermons watching my father, but now he was gone. There was no one to stand in my way now. I immediately located Seandria and told her that it was done. She asked to see the body and I happily obliged, taking her back to my home and showing her where he lay, still resting on his deathbed. She smiled at me. I think that was the first time I had felt true joy in a long time. I wasted no time in getting the body properly taken care of, like any good daughter would do. I hope he believes that, too. I was only looking out for him. I'm writing this down quickly. Tonight I shall pray for the gift of Rhysol. Tomorrow I will have been touched by divine blood. This is the last you shall be written upon by Valentina re Bisret. Tomorrow I shall forsake my father's name and take on my own; I shall become Valentina Markova. I shall burn this diary because I shall no longer need my history written upon its pages. That is the past, and I will no longer be a part of it.
-
Valentina smiled as she read the passages of her past. The last one was dated only yesterday. She fondly remembered last night when she had become a Chaon. How she had prayed all night about herself, her past. She prayed of her desires, too. To be free from her past, to be a new person. To have a new identity. To not be known as the Eypharian's Daughter. The drop of Rhysol's blood on her skin was the worst pain she had ever known, worse than the pain she felt during her father's last breaths, worse than the pain she had felt when her mother had passed away. It was tearing her apart like a maelstrom just underneath the skin, just underneath her skull and pulsing through her bones. But what had come after was something she would remember for far longer than she would remember the pain. The pure ecstasy that she had felt shudder through her body made it all worth it.
Valentina shut the diary. It was no longer her. Her citizen papers had been changed; she was now, officially, Valentina Markova, and this diary was of Valentina re Bisret. She tossed it into the hearth, watching the flames lick the pages and consume the book in a blaze of fire.
She was free.
by Valentina Markova on July 24th, 2013, 6:33 am 