February 11th, 1108

We have locked Salazar away. He is a danger to us, to himself, and to our race. Our blood is not clean as he says. Our blood is that of a normal man’s. We have no “purity” in our blood. We have but a gift. A gift that we received from the spirits. Our blood is sacred, but it is no more pure than anyones. Our ancestors received our gift, and had it passed on down the line to us. It is our duty to pass this on. Salazar doesn’t believe this

He believes people are born with the blood inside them. They have the talent of magic when they take the first breath of this world. He believes this comes from parents, from those who brought you, and the gift, into the world. But we wouldn’t be here, as wizards, unless we had this privilege handed to us millennia ago. The spirits reward those with the ability, and it is our duty, as bearers of the knowledge, to train the ability and let it flourish.

Rowena agrees. We possess something special, and many children around the world are in possession of the present. We cannot keep this safe in the hands of those who are pure. We must expand, and we must continue to teach everyone who has been rewarded. So I and Rowena captured Salazar and took him to the tallest tower. We are deciding what shall be done, but I believe fate has already chosen.

Helga, however, thinks otherwise. She is siding with Salazar. She believes him a martyr, continuing our race and our purity. We shall be deciding, soon enough, whether her allegiance could prove a problem. When the time is right, she shall reveal her colours, and the yellow stain of cowardice shall be thwarted one way or another. The envious green shall come to pass, and on will the red lion of the wild roar, and the skies remain blue from the ravens might, reflecting our true blood. The blood of true martyrs, keeping our race alive.