Sixteen Years, Two Months, Two Weeks and Two Days Since the Sky Fell

Though I can play all of my instruments, I cannot call upon the power that once lay within their songs. Where once the strings of my sitars and tembalas were warm with magic, my flute tingling with power, my zils and spoons and riq tremble with the unknown there is nothing but horse hair and wood and and hide and metal.

As such, I've gone back to the studies of Great-Aunt Marjo's sacred book. I was actually surprised to find it with my things - I recall the Marhime taking it with him when he left, which is part of why he was made Marhime. The book teaches several different kinds of magic, but since Great-Aunt Marjo was a witch, it mostly contains the teachings of the Baro Chovexanis of old - much of the teachings pre-date the Age of Turmoil even.

The priestess caught me practicing one of the simple charms Great-Aunt Marjo wrote down, and insisted I study at the Concordium. Their way of magic doesn't feel right; its too rigid and constructed and feels more like the bonds of slavery than the enlightness of the mind.

Largely, I'm ignoring their spells, using the charms and curses that do the same things or similar from Great-Aunt Marjo's book. I study ahead in the paths they give me, since she has a vast line of each kind of charm and curse. They - the stuffy-stuffs at the Concordium - see me as some sort of quick learner, though they dislike the fact they cannot understand the language used to cast.

I don't think I shall study there long, though really I don't study there at all. When the priestesses release me to go home - and I get my home back, and my things from Vhargas if there are any left - I shall probably drop it entirely.