Sasha's diary. Written in year 35 After Alaric's Return.

---- First entry ----

Well, hi me. Or I.

Fuck, how do I even do it? It's ridiculous. What's the point anyway? It won't help me. Nothing will help me.

Edgar says it's good, though. That it helped him. Well, whatever. So hello, me. Hello, Edgar, if you’re reading. See? I am doing it.

Should I start at the beginning?

I know you forgot everything, but you were probably told the most important stuff already, weren’t you? Stars, it feels stupid to address myself as "you." But saying "I" is even more stupid, so "you" it is, I guess.

So, well, thank you for not dying. Please don’t, okay? If they gave you these journals and the recording I’m supposed to make—fuck, that’s another impossible task Edgar gave me, but well, not more impossible than, you know...—if you got it, then you aren’t going to die, right? I asked for that. To give it to you when it’s clear you will have a future. Please, do live, for both of us.

So you have a future, while the only thing I have is the past. And it's yours too, even if you find it hard to believe. Edgar said he still could not. That is scary. But still, I will try. For you. For me. Because at the end of the day, I refuse to believe we aren't the same person. If you survived, if you live, it means I did too.

So, start at the beginning. I struggle to remember childhood now, and I don't want to think about it—not of Rovalia, either. So, let me tell you about the university.

I remember one day especially well, but probably, there were many days like this, collapsed together in my memory.

There’s nothing quite like starting the day with a fresh cup of coffee in your hands. Do you still like coffee? Please tell me that you at least like coffee.

Alex—you should remember a little bit about her from these memories we will save—glanced at me from the microwave door, using the reflection to fix her hair. “You do realize you’re basically made of coffee at this point, right?”

I shrugged, cradling the mug in my hands. “Better coffee than stress.” I thought I was constantly stressed back then. Now, it feels like my life was so simple and happy. It was, wasn’t it? I almost want to laugh at how small my worries were.

“If that’s your defense,” she said with a smirk, “I’m surprised you’re not bathing in it.”

As if I could afford to bathe in coffee, I thought. Wouldn’t that be something, though?

But no, no bathing in coffee for me. Not back then, when I just barely covered my half of the energy bill, and I had my eyes on this online course on simple healing spells for so long. Just one more scholarship, and maybe I could afford this course at least. Or maybe not. Studying medicine at a public university was one thing, but real magic? That was a whole different level of impossible. Not for a poor girl from Rovalia.

I’d always known I had talent. It’s like knowing you have a knack for something—it just feels natural. But having a knack for magic doesn’t get you into Lovenia Magic Arts Academy—or any magic academy, for that matter—not when rich kids half my age have already spent years with private tutors, shaping spells like it’s their birthright. Well, actually, it sort of was.

I’d probably missed my chance. But then, maybe if I just worked a little harder, pushed myself a bit more…

You know, I still feel a pang of something when I think about it. Now, learning from Edgar, seeing that I wasn't exaggerating, that I am actually good—it feels like something that was taken from me. Another thing that was taken from me. You probably can’t understand it, can you? If you are anything like Edgar says you’ll be—though I think he says it just to make me feel better—magic comes naturally to you now. Well, that wasn’t the case before… everything.

But back then, it was one of the main things in my life. How much I wanted to learn magic, and how I couldn’t.

“Sasha, I can hear your brain working,” Alex said, pulling on her jacket. “You coming to class or what?”

I blinked, shaking off the thought. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

The walk across campus was brisk, the cold biting through my coat despite the deceptive sunlight overhead. Gorenza—the city where I went to study—was bigger than Rovalia, but the chill in the air felt just as sharp, slipping under scarves and settling in your bones.

It was some time ago, right? How long were you there? Back then, arc-tech was already a thing, but still somewhat new. Arc-tech buses rumbled past, their runework glowing faintly as they pulled away from stops. Students crowded the sidewalks, a sea of backpacks and conversation, while the city hummed around us. Gorenza was a strange mix—old brick buildings lined with arc-tech panels, enchanted streetlights glowing steadily above, and sleek storefronts with displays that shimmered like they were alive. It was all so normal here. Back home, we were only just getting our own arc-tech bus line. Progress. Slowly but surely.

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We reached the university’s main building, and stepping inside felt like walking into a warm hug. The scent of books and wood drifted through the air, and I glanced at the bulletin board, even though I’d checked it online earlier. But still... No new scholarship offers, no magical programs suddenly within my grasp. Not that I’d been expecting it. But… I checked. I always checked.

“Still hoping for a miracle?” Alex nudged me, her smile knowing.

“Yeah,” I said, grinning back. “You think they’ll ever put up a flyer that just says, ‘Hey Sasha Irving, want a free pass to Lovenia Magic Arts Academy?’”

“If that happens, buy me a lottery ticket,” she said.

Now, it feels like a cruel joke, you know? Well, everything feels like a cruel something, but this is specifically painful. Because in some twisted sense, this did happen, right? You, now, can have a free pass to anything at all, can't you? But I can’t imagine if you even want anything like it. Or want anything at all. I cannot imagine you at all. But if by some miracle you would care about what I felt, know that it was my dream back then. Maybe you’ll do it for both of us?

Back in the dorm that evening, Alex was already there, watching something on her laptop. Just before I took off my coat, my phone buzzed. I smiled when I saw Ilya’s name—he sent another picture of Kostya, wrapped in a blanket, looking more like a tiny bundle than a baby. I sent back a quick He’s so cute! and stared at the picture for a moment longer.

It’s so absurd, you know? By all chances, Kostya is older than you now.

Well, not counting the eternity of suffering.

So Ilya, my big brother, was already a dad at 21, working hard, following the usual path in Rovalia. And here I was, the first from our family to make it to university. I could feel the weight of their hopes on me, even though they never said a word. They didn’t push me, but I pushed myself—straight As because there was no room for failure. If I slipped, I’d lose my scholarships, and then what? It felt like such a big thing back then. And now I cannot fathom what it was that I was so afraid of. Nothing really bad could’ve happened in my normal life, nothing like, well—

Still, back then, looking at the picture, I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was good. At least I had some common sense to feel thankful. Thanks, Saviors, I thought, a small sense of peace settling over me. I used to thank them, as everyone did, you know? Now it feels so weird.

We even had an altar—well, everyone did. At ours, we had sigils of Alaric, Edgar, and Alexander neatly in place, surrounded by the cacti. These little guys were weird, blooming like that for months already, even though they weren’t supposed to. When we moved in here, I was sure previous tenants just forgot to throw away these plants; they looked so dead. And yet, now, they were thriving. I wondered, as I often did, if my magic was sneaking out in these tiny, useless ways—blooming cacti, flickering lights, a bit louder buzzing of arc-tech.

It probably sounds so stupid and pitiful to you now, right? You can, what, level cities with a thought?

Anyway, I talked to the cacti: “Is it me, or did you just need a bit of love?”

As always, they didn't answer. Rude plants.

I put it back at the altar. I wasn’t particularly devoted, but I did give quick thanks to the Saviors like I did every evening. And then, because it was part of the routine, I complained to them.

“Couldn’t one of you have helped me get into some magic training, please?” I muttered.

They didn’t answer either. I thought maybe I should start talking to real people instead. And clear my head. I knew just the thing. Good that I hadn’t taken my coat off.

“Coffee run!” I called out to Alex.

She glanced up. “Again?”

“Always.” I winked. “Wanna join?”

Alex sighed, shaking her head. “Back into that cold? I’m not crazy like some,” she smiled. “You’re going to turn into a coffee bean one day, you know that?”

“And I’ll be a very happy coffee bean,” I said, grinning as I closed the door behind me.

The campus was quieter at night, but not by much. Groups of students lingered, chatting in clusters, while others hurried back to their dorms or out to meet friends. The arc-tech streetlights hummed softly, casting a warm glow over the pathways. A chill hung in the air, the kind that made your breath visible in faint clouds. I didn’t mind it—it would make the coffee taste even better on the way back. As I walked, I caught snippets of conversation—talk of classes, exams, relationships. Someone mentioned the ACC, something about more eruptions this year. But back then I just ignored it, stupidly. I thought it didn't matter to me. Ha. Ha. Ha.

The café door chimed softly as I stepped inside. It was warm and smelled heavenly. Probably, this is how that coffee bath would've smelled. And felt. I smiled at the barista—a familiar face by now. “The large latte, please,” I said, and he nodded, tapping my order into the register. As I reached for my wallet, my eyes landed on the board above the counter. A new price hastily scribbled in marker. A price hike. Just a little, but enough to make my stomach drop. I really wanted this latte, and I walked all the way down here to get it, but…

“Actually, just a small black coffee today, please,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. The barista didn’t seem to mind. He probably saw this all the time. It was a campus café in a public university. I wasn’t the only student struggling to make ends meet, was I? Probably not.

I took a sip, the bitterness biting harder than I expected. It wasn’t what I’d wanted, but it would have to do. It was still coffee, after all. Yet, when I stepped back into the cold, the warmth from the cup didn't seem to fend off the biting wind.

I don't know why I’m telling you all this. These things are so normal, so not important, but maybe that’s the point. It feels… right to just remember, to try to get back into the moment, because they happened. Even when I’m gone, they did happen. It doesn’t feel like much, but it’s all that I have. And it’s all that I can give you.