Diary entry by Jocasta
The truth, that is what I fear now. That my husband should discover his true origin, that the when he thought he was running away from his fate he was in truth running towards it. Oh curse the day that I did not see to it that he was dead, for surely he will wish it on himself soon enough. Oh my poor husband, you have no idea how much the truth can hurt, how it takes the apperance of a flower only to stab at you with thorns. I have chosen that I cannot live in this world of truth. It piles on pain after pain though people still urn for it.
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