Dear Not Diary - Granny keeps telling me to start writing my dreams down because it'll help me recall the important details. Even the small ones. I haven't really had any crazy dreams lately. Reality is chaotic enough. I'm nervous. Well, I'm actually quite frightened. The promise of my little protected world falling apart seems to be becoming more of a real shituation with every day that passes. A lifetime's worth of mind-bending insanity has already happened over the last five or six months. I mean, I woke up one morning and had these wings/not-wings, and then there was Lacey... ugh. Oh, and I was killed and brought back to life. I got fully nude and sang to a really old creep to get him away from Flora. Let's see... then there was Dee-Dee, the skin walker, Twin Changelings, the Nantanshi—which I'm certain we'll see again—the Messenger, the unbridled magic, and Jet. FUCKING JET. It seems like we are going to have to hunt that bastard down through seven realms of probably hell. Can't a girl get a break? I just want a normal day, a nice cup of coffee, and to not feel compelled to look over my shoulder. Just once. I'm aggravated as all hell that I can't seem to get all the pieces of everything in one bite. Everyone around me has to tiptoe and speak in riddles. I mean, we could probably already be done with this whole whatever-the-hell “prophecy” bullshit by now. But noooo...Cryptic is apparently the theme of this game. Anyway, I just needed a moment to start these entries and bitch about the same old shit. I don't want to burden my friends with the same complaints over and over again. Hence you, Not Diary. I’ll come up with a better name for you later. But this'll do for now. K, thanks! Seb.

Dear Not Diary, Still hate the name. Haven't come up with anything better, though, so congratulations. ;)  You're stuck with it. We're going after Jet!!! That's a very casual sentence for something that involves traveling through seven realms I've never seen, hunting down a man I barely know, who may or may not be working for a homicidal fairy Queen who would very much like to know where I am. Sounds fun, right? Good news is that we officially have a ride to take us where we need to go. I've walked through it’s door and found a black void, Granny's house rearranged like somebody shook it in a box, a forest, a cabin I'd rather not discuss, dead relatives, not-dead goddesses, and enough cryptic bullshit to last several lifetimes. Now I'm supposed to trust it as transportation. Sure. Why not? The worst part is that underneath all the sarcasm—and yes, Not Diary, I'm aware there's a lot of it—I'm scared. Not monster-under-the-bed scared. I've met the monsters now. Most of them aren't under beds. I'm scared because for the first time in my life, I'm choosing to leave the place everyone worked so hard to keep me safe inside. There's a difference between having danger find you and deliberately walking toward it. I don't particularly care for the second option. But Jet knows something. The Burning Queen knows something. My family knows approximately eight thousand somethings and distributes information like it's a controlled substance. And somewhere in the middle of all of it is me. “The Royal Daughter” Whatever the hell that's actually supposed to mean. So, I guess we're doing this. Seven realms. One Jet. One homicidal Queen. And however many creatures out there decide I look edible. Maybe I should pack snacks. If I'm going to be eaten, I'd rather not die hungry. K, thanks! Seb.

Dear Not Diary,So much for my hand-picked team! We’re taking the goblin. Snorvle is coming with us to the Otherworld. I'd say no, but Dee-Dee made a valid point I couldn't deny.Marcus thinks this is a good idea. Jacoby thinks this is the best idea anyone has ever had, which should immediately disqualify it from being a good idea. I asked what exactly Snorvle would be doing on this little tour of places where people may or may not want to murder me.Diplomacy…Snorvle? The same goblin who can make a normal conversation feel like you accidentally walked into the wrong bathroom and now everyone is too embarrassed to acknowledge it. That Snorvle?Supposedly, he knows the realms. He knows the politics. He knows who we can trust, who we can't trust, and who might smile at us while secretly planning to feed us to something. And fine; I guess that’s useful. But I have questions.Does he bathe?Does he snore?Does he eat normal food?Does he have luggage?Oh God. Does Snorvle own pajamas? I did not need that thought in my head.Anyway, my diplomatic delegation now consists of me, a bear-shifting protector, a supportive bestie, a walking smart-ass, A cooky old lady that I absolutely adore, and a goblin whose understanding of personal boundaries remains under investigation.This should be fun.K, Thanks,SebilleP.S. I swear, if he packs a nightcap, he’s going to join the growing field of cholla plants that were once our enemies.

Dear Not Diary,How much underwear does a person need to hunt down a changeling? I don’t know how long we’ll be gone or whether laundry is something I should be concerned about. Nobody ever explains that part when they’re leaving Earth for the unknown:“Excuse me, can I get directions to the laundromat?”And what am I supposed to wear, exactly? I could ask Marcus, but I don’t think someone who can turn into a bear gets an opinion on my packing problems. He comes with his own coat. I’ll probably pack too much, and Marcus will pack three outfits and ten cases of beer.Maybe I should pack my entire closet. Actually, I think I have just the right kind of luggage for that.Well, shit. One problem solved. Now, how do I make sure my blood stays inside me for the duration of this trip? I guess I’ll have to come back to that.Snacks. I’m definitely bringing snacks. I’m not arriving in an unfamiliar realm hungry and having to politely ask what’s in the stew. Especially if the answer has a name.What’s bothering me is that I don’t know what I’m getting ready for. At least when I’m packing, I can pretend there’s something I can do about it. Cold? Sweater. Hungry? Snacks. Wet socks? More socks. Homicidal fairy tribes in the realm of nightmares? I don’t think I have a packable item for that.Anyway, if everyone could be a little less excited about going to the Otherworld and a little more concerned about how securely their heads are attached to their necks, that would be fantastic.But...I have underwear. We’ll start there.K, thanks!Seb.P.S. I almost forgot to put coffee on my packing list. Can you imagine? Forget the aforementioned homicidal fairies. Without coffee, I’d be the one everyone needs to worry about.