Dear Journal,
Yesterday was one of those magical days where Thornhaven felt particularly alive, even though I was alone in my dreaming. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the Umbric Planes as I took one of my morning strolls. I wound up in the Whispering Gardens, drawn by the shift from morning light to the cozy grove of darkened twilight.
As I wandered deeper into the garden, I stumbled upon a hidden alcove, concealed by a waterfall. There, resting on a mossy stone, I found it: the most enchanting quill I have ever seen. I can hardly do it justice with my words, but I will try to describe the stunning creation. The feather is a deep crimson that shifts to vibrant gold when viewed from different angles, reminiscent of a sunset igniting the sky. The shaft appears to be carved from ancient oak, featuring a spiral design that adds texture and is finished with a glossy clear coat. It feels warm in my hand, as if I am holding centuries of stories within its grain. The metalic nib is sharp and slightly curled with the initials F.W. faintly imprinted on the body.
I named it FlutterWing, not only in honor of the initials it bears, but for ever since I found it, I’ve had the oddest experience of misplacing it. Just this morning, I set it down on a tree stump with a stack of scrolls, only to find it missing moments later! I searched everywhere—around the stump, under books, inside my bag—until I discovered it nestled among the garden blooms, as if it had fluttered away on its own. At first, I thought I was simply forgetful, but now I’m beginning to suspect that this quill has a will of its own.
What if it truly does flutter about, yearning for stories to be told? It feels as though it once belonged to a mystical being—perhaps a creature of the night sky or a spirit of the gardens. I can almost envision an otherworldly figure losing a feather as it soars through the dusk.
With Flutterwing cradled in my hands, I feel a spark of inspiration. Yet, I must be cautious; such magic carries its own mysteries. What if the quill carries the essence of its former owner, or perhaps it seeks out its next adventure? Perhaps that is a silly notion, but it is fun to imagine. Maybe I am becoming more forgetful than I thought.
I will keep a watchful eye, but in the meantime I will cherish Flutterwing, letting it inspire my writings while I delve into Thornhaven’s secrets. For now, I better get started on these quests.
Yours in ink,
Rosalie
