Journal Entry of Killian Morningstar (Part 1)

Dear Journal,
Its been weeks, i've been hunted, prosecuted, but I am so close to finding it, a way to finally be happy with Bella, Nessie and Kyran. They will never understand the things I did or why I did them. To them I will be the absent father. The abusive Husband. Buf I know the truth, I found a group of witches deep in Paris. I believe they are the key to what I fear is coming. My Father warns me of the Plots of hell fo overtake my throne, but I care little about Hells Politics. I care little about anything. Let alone a Place filled with the souls of the damned. If I don't stop whats coming for my Children then I fear I may be one of those damned souls.

Dear Journal,
Months since I've been home for longer then a few seconds Nessie and Kyran are growing like weeds while Bella is still as radiant and beautiful as the dawn. Everynight I appear in our room and lie by her side, holding her close for a few moments. I fear thats all I can do. I know shes Angry, I know she hates me as do my children. And thats okay. As long as I can protect them even if they haven't noticed it.

Dear Journal,
Christmas has come and again I have missed it. I dream of the day I'll wake up again and see my childrens smiling face, feel the touch of their mothers lips, hear the sounds of their laughter, I think its the only thing keeping me sane at the moment. I have a meeting with the Coven Leader. Earlier in the day and I pray they can help me.

Dear Journal,
They Locked me away, Sealed me below the catacombs of Paris. Siphoning and Channeling my Magic. When I'm not being a preverbial supercharged magical battery, they toss me in my Cell.

Dear Journal,
I have forgotten their faces. I vaguely remember their names, I fear if they keep this torture up. I'll forget my own name.

Dear Journal,
I don't remember their names. I don't remember mine. The guard of the cell says my name is Killian, or was it Kyle. I can't remember my own identity. If it wasn't for this book. I wouldn't have a way of knowing if its the truth or not.

Dear Journal,
8 Months have gone by, i think since my Incarceration, the witches feed me some bread made with some herb that weakens my abilities, and water. I feel like someone is spying on me, watching my everymove. I'll have to hide this journal, because I found it. The Spell needed.