Even though I am writing this letter with you in mind, I never intend to send it. These words are for the You that lives in my childhood memories, not the third prince of Greycastle, but my loving brother, as I once knew you. Call it a journal, or a diary, if you wish. It's just easier to write with someone in mind.

To say the capital's cells are cold and unwelcoming is an understatement. Rats are as big as dogs, the foul smell doesn't only come from the sewers, but also the guards, who are mean and uncaring. My escape involved more than one unfortunate event. Two weeks was the time that I spent, rotting in that stinky cell. Luckily, I wasn't alone or I doubt my sanity would have survived. I met two sisters, Shandi and Cara, who are real witches! I never imagined that my rescue would come from such an unexpected place. Shandi's magic can cure! Is that something you can imagine the witches that people call devil's incarnate doing? I must admit though, that words cannot describe the pain her treatment causes. Just remembering it still hurts! Cara says she can summon snakes to crawl over her body, so she was deemed too dangerous to be left without boundaries, and was collared with a G.o.d's Locket of Retribution, locking her powers.

The events of the night of our escape will probably haunt us for the rest of our lives. Late that night, Cara was dragged away by a group of guards. Her screams didn't stop for most of the night. Nightmares are more pleasant then the sight she presented as she returned. Her clothes were ripped, her skin covered in the most gruesome wounds and burn marks, her hair missing in several places and her once lively eyes were now soul empty. Her luck was that her collar G.o.d's Locket got destroyed in the process, so she retaliated and stole the keys. The three of us walked out of prison over a pile of dead bodies. I haven't been able to sleep since then. It was a sight that can still make me vomit.

Yours dearly,

Your Sister Ravel.