the Everjournal The book, as she read it, eternally changed. Every read through was different, in the fact that it was her life and she was reading the plethora possibilities that it could be. Eventually, Alania would have to stop reading - the journal was telling her that much. The only other thing it could tell her was what had already been. Her eyes were sore now, made so by the flickering candle-light. This was getting expensive; the local chandler had risen the price on his candles considerably, because Alania bought most of them. This wasn’t a bad thing to him - the other customers were trying to pick up on his stock because it was becoming more elusive, more popular because of it’s rarity. Funny, they were not even good candles. The wicks went out almost hourly, they smelled of lard (which they were, Ephram just never scented them), they were just the only ones in the region, and now people came from afar to get them, after their relatives had written about how hard to get they were. They were in it for the chase.3 Alania still did not understand the magic of the journal. It had come in a dream some months ago, and she had become instantly addicted when she had awoken to find it there. The journal told her entire life’s tale: from what happened on her third birthday - cousin Ephram, then the chandler’s apprentice had spilled boiling wax on her-, to her deepest thoughts as an early teen. And yet, she knew she must put it down. The room, she noticed as she finally shut the leather-bound book, had not been cleaned in weeks, the remains of her food still littered the floor. Rats had been here, as she could tell from the scattering of tracks in the dust on the floor. Her bed hadn’t been used in weeks; Alania usually just fell asleep at the writing desk as she read her life’s story. The dust was thick there too, and on the one shelf lining the wall across from the door. On top of that, she found after closer inspection, was the feces of various vermin, along with what looked like a disgusting spider web. She would indeed have to clean. After she took a nap. Bridging her fingers, the blonde quarter elf yawned, arching, then popping, her spine. She only knew she was quarter elf from the general shape of her features. She was sure she was other things too, probably a bit of orc down the line on her father’s side. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would do something else.