Journal+-+Cormac

Secrets are becoming unraveled. Secrets that for better or for worse now command us ever growing attention from the English military. Secrets that revealed now make that attention irrevocable. Our records, stamped in triplicate with the destruction of Maynooth, now have the allure of something much worse.

Of course our first instinct is to run from the military, but Neila and Edward must know well as I that the lieutenant is unlikely to simply let us slip away under the cover of night after what was said. I fear that we may end up running for the rest of our lives; on the bright side that may only be a fews days.

Even if we could escape from the military for a time where would we go? Going back to any town brings a huge risk of being identified, particularly for Neila. Drogheda would be out the question. It seems our only choices are to leave the military on good terms or leave Ireland never to return.

If we fail in an escape attempt and we are interrogated I worry what could be uncovered. We would be put in quite an awkward position trying to explain our breakout. There is definitely the possibility of separate accounts again. With the added disadvantage of incredibility among the military I might have to use the one thing I do have, tangible proof of the supernatural. Is it even worth keeping a secret anymore? Everything I hide that the others bring into the light is now a weakness to me, the truth would be my only defense. If only it wasn’t such a terrible truth.

Perhaps if the present danger wasn’t so strange we could stand with the military. Clovis seems to think that this camp doesn’t provide any protection from the earl’s men, but what if the soldiers had a better idea of what coming? There's power in secrets, we were no match for the earl’s men because we had no idea what they were capable of, but did we see all that they could do? All I can say for certain is that bullets and blows seem to kill them with enough effort.

And what have I left but what I can kill? I can not see a way out of this mess that doesn’t involve terrible choices. My legacy will be what I will destroy. All I have built is gone: my shop, my works, my schemes. What remains is my power.

If a man’s only only standing was given by hell what does it make him? These last months have seen us driven by beings larger than ourselves. Hidden away in the farmstead it was given to me the option of another slavery, the option to be taken by evil to save myself from another evil. If it was a lesser evil like I have seen in Cartwright I would accept it, but how am I to know. If a man is only destruction may it be destruction under his own agency, but the wishes of a fool such as I are playthings in this arena.

And here we stand, the three of us left, still unaligned. Are there any allies of use to us? We could side with the army and England, the others seem ready enough for it, but would their mortal forces have any purpose against the earl? Cartwright might be willing to move against the wizard, but what if it would be easier to simply give us up to the earl to get Arianne back?

Perhaps the only real option of true friends now are the others, the other group of orphans. I do not know if they could be found, or if their even alive, but above anyone I hope they would understand us. They are such a fleeting hope, but I feel like I should at least pretend that finding them is a real possibility. Maybe if I can come up with the right lies about them I’ll start believing them myself.

When I first learn of my powers and their dark implications I thought I could keep my soul from the abyss by holding on to hope. I know feel that when I lose all hope I won’t have one left to worry about.

//Stephen your'e a lucky bastard.//

**//Entry Two//**
What is a mind? I suppose one could say I’ve had two, but if ones always been one then one's not in a position to say. Two bodies? Certainly, but bodies are easier to understand. Doctors and natural philosophers can pry inside and label this and that. The mind is harder to pin down. My own spent a lifetime contently wrapped up in a head, but when evicted clung to the dearth just as readily. Into the dearth it dragged a few sparks of desire. It built around the embers like a frame. Was there another part to it? A soul, or spirit? If there was I could not feel it.

A mortal frame is forever cut off from the infinite, so to is the mortal mind. The mind, traveling inward, has limits. Deep within in is the spring of all thought and consciousness, the water of the soul flows forever outward into thought and action. For a mind to reach it’s own source is to allow for infinite regression.

Some, like Neila, will ask me to travel to the spring; to the center of my mind. They will want to know the temperature of the water, does it flow east or west? Is it sweet or brackish? There is more purpose in asking the stellar depths to explain where they began.

For now I don’t know if my mind is Edward or Cormac or some combination, but I know I’m here. I can still feel the embers that I dragged out of the old body that bled out on the wall. I can still remember the first time I was on stage performing.

I also remember Cyril speaking at great length on the function of the heart, did my own function any better for my ears having heard it? The heart of the mind cannot be reached, but I count it no loss.


 * Entry Three **

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Can an entire life fit into a jacket pocket? My mind has traveled less than a yard to its new home but lost so much along the way. Every inch burned. These papers try to put things to order, some of what they say is familiar some of it not. All of it was of great importance to me mere minutes ago, or so I have told myself. The last words of an old man giving up his staff, the time it takes the Carotid artery to bleed out, a wish made in haste. All things either good or ungood.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Edward’s mind was a library bustling with activity, these papers a prized book rescued from the fire. I read every shaky word again and again, hoping each time it will do more for me. Edward was a smart man, some of his theories and proposed connections are hard to grasp upon first reading, but I hope I was right. Henry’s world is more clear in some ways, he had commitments. He was willing to see something important through and to abandon the rest. All things either good or ungood.

<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #000000; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">As I approach the day I was born for and reborn for I hope I am trusting the right people. Questions fill my new head on our tactics, but I can see now that what matters most is that we are united in a single goal. The earl must be undone, for my brother and sisters, for Colette, for all the souls he has ground under his heel. What will be in his place I can not accurately predict, either good or ungood.