The end. . .

Locke! I know I heard his voice!

Until yesterday, I was still locked in that miserable room. Yet, during the night, I could hear his voice, yelling. . . Oh Locke. . . I just pray that you're okay! It was not long after, that Maroco appeared through the door. He looked as if he had just ran a great distance, as he was breathing heavily. He said Madoco was entertaining a "guest" and that he was taking me where he keeps the rest of his "flowers." Ugh! I hate that name. . . Although I suppose it's better than the names Madoco spewed at me.

A guest. . . Could it have been you, Locke? If it was. . . Then you better have not had gone off with that disgusting woman! Oh, I'll be so angry if you do! But. . . I guess it would be for the best. I'm inferior compared to her! What kind of match could I possibly be? None. I'm weak and ordinary. I couldn't fight myself away from a few drunken bandits! And for that, I deserve whatever may happen to me now. . . I'm on a ship, but that is all that I can tell right now. The waves rocking reminds me of that horrible time in my childhood when mother and I first came to Murrad. I feel so ill just thinking about it. . .

Maroco. He is so intent on keeping me. He says I will learn to like him, despite how spirited I am now. I don't possibly understand what he could want with me -- but I feel I'm not alone. It seems to me that he may have done this several times already. . . I wonder what sinister plans he has for me? He has mentioned a Master Lucio several times. I don't really understand, but. . . This is my destiny, I suppose. Maybe becoming so sarcastic and snide didn't exactly work out in my favour.

Mother. . . I wish you were here. I need your comfort more than ever. Remember when we used to cuddle on board the merchant ship? I was young then, but I remember it so vividly in my head. . . I hope you can forgive me. I should have listened to you when you told me to forget this journey. I was so stubborn. . . But I suppose at least I can say I died trying.

Locke. I hope and wish you can find happiness now that I am not there to hold you back. . . Maybe I never heard your voice -- maybe it was just my stupid hopes taking over my senses. But hopes are just that. Stupidity. I've truly learned that now. Yet I'll continue to hope until my dying breath. I suppose I'm merely stubborn that way.

Farewell, friend. I hope that after I die, one day these pages will find their way to you, so that you know -- I love you.

I'm tired, book. Maybe if destiny decides to spare me a while longer, I shall return to tell you of it. However, for now. . . Goodnight.