Dear Diary,

I've had a complicated day. 

We rescued some kind of angel and they promised to make us a weapon that could kill the source of the curse. That's good right? Probably... yes. It just feels like the weapon they're building is going to be its own problem.

You know that song about the old woman that swallows a fly, and then through a series of ill-considered solutions, she becomes a massive, all consuming monster that devours an entire kingdom? It feels a bit like that.

We need to solve this problem and we don't have a better way. So we're going to do it. But I worry that we're going to make a bigger problem that someone else is going to need a bigger solution for. We're kicking the can down the road, and each time we kick it, it grows more spikes. 

Also the immortal fire dwarf had built an automaton using some part of Emil's mind that calls itself Stelar. I am attempting to deal with that but my own mind is actively refusing. I dealt with Emil. I searched for him. I mourned him. That was a chapter I closed years ago. If he'd come back, himself, that would be one thing. But it's not him, not really. It's like a haunting echo of him. I'm not sure how Stelar feels about it. I'm not sure if Stelar feels at all. They seem to. 

I should probably ask. I should have a friendly conversation and welcome them to the Reach, and offer them a bed like I do with all newcommers. All I can do, though is stare at them like they're some kind of monster.

Conflictedly yours,

Mauritius, third-best practitioner of the Panther's claw, frequently absent Earl of Wending