I told you not to go with them. You wouldn’t listen.  Now you are bound to their disgraceful bloodline—out of Ghostglade’s reach. And neither the veil nor my magic can protect you where you are.

Each night I weep knowing what his maliciousness has done to you when darkness fell upon his castle. His lineage is tainted, so is his heart and all the children you have born him cannot soften it.

The Ashen Host is but a failed experiment of spell corruption. Your daughters will suffer from his madness, planted into their seed by force. Nothing good can ever grow from the roots of Qlippothar and you know it. Now you know…

There was a time when the name of Valalfyr rang through Gardyan’s forests with glory and grace. Mighty wizards of the veil they were indeed. But those times are long gone, and their legacy is burnt to ashes.

As your fertility wanes, his interest will fade as well. If you are of no use to him anymore, he will dispose of you like waste rotting in the gutter. Your name—erased. Your soul—mutilated. Your heritage—forgotten.

So, flee, my priestess lost to the homeland. And pray that the veil will find you before his henchmen. There is not a single choice left for you unless you run. So, run.

In bitterness and disappointment,

Baba