Flamerule 28th, 154 AE
It has been awhile since I last wrote, and too much has happened in too short a time to adequately explain what I am feeling as I write this, but the emotion is clear:
Alecar is back. I have had too many chances to explain to him how I feel, but every time I end up ruining the mood by saying something incredibly stupid. I don’t even know why I bother, I can’t imagine he’d be interested in a foolhardy girl like me, anyway.
Over the past few weeks, I have had to say too many goodbyes. While I was more than happy to help Byron last time we were in Fallcrest, I do not think he fully understands how much it breaks my heart every time I ride away from him. Sometimes I worry if my feelings for Alecar are genuine, or if they are just distractions from a love I am unsure of.
I can command every flame except the flame within my heart.
But tomorrow, a fire I know well must be stoked: the fires of war. I have seen the Basalt Throne, and I have seen what kind of power is required to sit upon it. Great grandfather showed me how to use my fire, and though this may be my first real battle, I bring with me the fury and the rage of every Sultan and Sheik ever to call the Brass Palace home.
Into the night I will burn, scarring the sky with the charred husks of every Cumberland soldier. And from the ashes of their defeat, I will stand atop their burial mounds covered in soot and blood and sweat, and I will claim this victory not for Luness, or Wellspring, or even Bahamut, but for me, the broken princess, soon to be crowned the Queen of Flames of the Basalt Throne. In Cumberland blood, my ascension begins.