No time for commentary, video soon.

Do not trust the news. It wasn’t our fault, we are safe.

It’s ironic that this is the document we were ready to release.

20th of Wein

Today, things changed. I finally accepted Miss Alveticas invitation. I now realize that no matter how tired I was, this was something I needed to see. This is something I can help with, I have been far too passive in this new world. All great souls endeavor to change the world around them. Gordon always hated it when I rallied against that status quo. He would tell me now, that this is the best time to cut my losses, to run before I stake myself on another useless cross. I listened to him once, when he begged me not to keep suffering under misogynist fools, and quit working towards my doctorate. He was quite persuasive then, he offered to marry me.

I don’t plan on taking his advice now, alone here on Elentier.

I miss Gordon.

Miss Alvetica took me through the city, it was late at night, far after I had finished my community service for today. Even if this walk had been her only purpose in inviting me away from the academy it would still be worth the time. It reminded me that this other world could still be beautiful. I have not had a reason to see this city at night until now, that was a mistake.

It is hard as an academic to remember that there is more to life than what can be found in books and data. I treasure moments like these. Ones that remind me that the solution to a problem will only come if you take the time to walk, and observe the places where you find yourself.

There are no streetlights in Revena, they have no need for them. It is impossible to tell while the bright light of the sun dominates, but metal enchanted with the weave faintly glows. In the darkness of night, that soft light washes the city. Also absent here is the cigarette smoke and exhaust fumes that plagued the streets of Boston. Twisting the fabric of reality makes for a powerful deodorizer, the streets of Ravena smell however they wish them to.

The bright streets, slowly shifting through the color spectrum as the natural weave stretches and groans around the enchantments, and the pleasant scents wafting about, should make for a comforting and beautiful space. As I followed Alvetica through those streets, I only felt half of that ideal. Beautiful they may be, comfortable they are not.

The light fills all of the space, leaving no room for shadow. The smells out of place and unnatural. A part of the wonder of a city are those dark spaces, the disgusting and shady alleys, and the grit and grime that seems to stick to everything. Those spaces of filth that live in the shadows of some of humanity’s greatest accomplishments always felt humbling. A physical reminder of what is thrown aside as we push to greater heights. To find a city without such things feels fundamentally wrong to me, It pushes me away as strongly as the people who live here.

Miss Alvetica leads me far away from the academy. Through shopping high rises and past dozens of open storefronts, weaving in and out of buildings and over bridges at random, not a word of explanation. We got on and off the elevated hover tram, riding it for a few stops each time.

I could not tell who Alvetcia was attempting to confuse, me or any potential ill intended classmates. Perhaps both. I would be lying to myself if I were to write that by this point I was unworried, if Alvetica abandoned me, there was little chance I could retrace my steps.

Then we came to the edge of the city, now in view of the wall. Emerging from a long hallway of what I believe were apartments, a few floors and buildings away from the latest tram station. The walkway was the longest I had seen by far, ringing the buildings standing just inside the wall. Outside the wall, the lights of the city abruptly stop, leaving the landscape beyond black, an inky ocean. Only able to be filled by the imagination.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The buildings here are not as tall as the ones that surround and house the academy and, maybe due to the darkness feet away, seem to shine less brightly. The walkway itself recedes out of sight in both directions, an echo of the wall below.

We walk along it alone, the hustle and bustle of the city seems to have left us behind. I get the sense that if this were a city back on earth, I had just entered a dark back alley. In spite of the ever present light, I feel danger. That feeling seems to slip into my mind from the eerie liminal space that surrounds us as we walk along the curved bridge. For a moment, I would like nothing more to turn around and leave.

Then the feeling passes as Alvetica stops to grab my hand and pull me along. Her touch seems to chase the emotion right out of my head. Sitting back in my room now, I wonder if that was more than just reassurance. But rather a woven precaution to ward away the unwelcome.

We pass by a few more skyscrapers before turning into one, just as quiet as the rest - walking a good way inside. Alvetica stops at one door and knocks out an odd rhythm. The door swinging open moments later.

We walk into a room that can only be described as a speakeasy, the feeling of a space meant to hold a group hidden from the law is another universal constant I have found. It could be the mood of the space, beastkin grouped up around tables and booths, hunched over quietly and passionately debating. It could have been the mug clutched in every member's hand, or the cloud of smoke that lazily drifted in the air. But the room spoke to me, in it, I saw a group of people who sought freedom of choice. I respect that, autonomy is something I value as well.

Miss Alvetica guides me down to a booth in the corner, I stand out here. Few in the room are human. I did not have time to see how many before being pulled down to my seat. I recognize a most of the beastkin sitting here from the group I had been guiding back at the academy. The few I don't recognize glare across the table at me.

Soon after I arrived, the conversations and quiet clink of glasses quiets down. An old woman stands up on a hidden stage in the opposite corner of the room, the lights overhead turning on to focus on her.

Though old the woman was stood with strength, dominating the stage as her gaze pierced across the room. Her hair and the ears atop her head were a dignified gray-silver. The beastkin of that room called her the Gray Wolf.

She spoke of revolution.

I dare not write more on the ENT network.

26th of Wein

I have gone with Alvetica to see the Gray Wolf speak three more times now. My mind is afire with plans and thoughts. If only I could share with these people stories from home. I want to help these people find their home within this country. They could learn from Dr. King, they too have a dream.

Helping them is what real heroes would do, It is what adventures should do.

I will try to talk with the Wolf next time I see her, Alvetica’s advice be dammed.

The academy has nothing for me, I have combed the library for all references, not a single mention of dimensional travel. There is little history in there at all, in fact. What is recorded before the “Great War” is pitiful, nothing more than folk tales and fantasy. Despite the human historians’ obvious bias, it would seem that I would be better off asking an elf on matters of lost magic.

The few accounts of other Travelers before me are foreign as well, that at least is humbling. There are many more worlds out there then just the two I have seen. But still none who are recorded have gone home, all have died here in Elentier. I have not despaired yet, if the Weave can pull so many here to fill books and books of the library it can put one of them back. It must.

Every new book I find, every new lead, has ended the same way. A dead end, a frustration, a defeat.

There is little else to learn, what they have here to teach me in Weaving is less than I taught to myself about crochet on earth. I have listened in on higher level classes, it's all route memorization and mnemonic tricks, I have no need of that. There is far more a doctor should memorize about the human body than there are woven patterns and stitches. I have added as much information to my ENT as I could get my hands on. If it's crocheting and memorization that makes a great Weaver I can do so on my own. Without the indoctrination.

29th of Wein

Last night I did it! I spoke with the Grey Wolf! Somehow she knew who I was. More than that, she knew where I was from. She knew I was a traveler. She had a planned to contact me before the Guild had whisked me away, but was too late.

There is a beastkin adventuring team, Uliuns Swords, they saved me and the other adventurers back at the keep. With their help, I am able to share what I know from home.

I am warned to write no more here. When next I add to this account, it will be with renewed freedom.