The Chronicles of Arkahaus

**The Smith’s Ledger – Entry 1**

Hmph. Today marks the start of this infernal chronicle. Not sure why I agreed to it—probably one of Phoebe’s tricks. That woman could convince a storm to hold its rain. But if she asks, I suppose I must oblige.

The work has begun, and with it, the familiar dance of joy and suffering. Crafting a tome is not unlike forging a blade—heat, pressure, and relentless toil. The first three chapters are done. I hammered her words into form, shaped them as best I could. Her voice is soft as starlight, yet I must cast it in steel. No easy feat, but then, nothing worth making ever is.

And still, I wonder—will she be pleased? Will she look upon this work and see *me* within it? Foolish thoughts. Sentiment has no place at the anvil. And yet…

No matter. The forge calls, and my hands do not falter. The finest works are not birthed in haste, nor should they be. Let time judge my craft, for it does not suffer mediocrity.

Back to work. There is much yet to be done.