It has been a lovely month since the business in Cuttyhunk.

Word of my aptitude in writing about arts arcane and occult has spread, and I've pulled in a greater earning than usual-enough to buy yet more fish tanks for my home. The Eighth Circle has been doing well, and I've earned their respect with the last contract. Where before I was an unproven greenhorn, now am I a proven asset-one who is capable of holding my own, and ensuring jobs are completed and completed well.

Kamarie has been growing in aptitude as well-the girl's hunger for knowledge is insatiable, and her skill in magic grows exponentially. She's on the path to becoming a fine mage indeed, and I'm proud to have her under my tutelage. I do worry about her, however-news of recent atrocities within the Palestinian region of this planet has agitated her greatly, as it should, and I fear she may respond brashly. I have cautioned her to not wield her full power against whatever thugs the state sends to her rallies and protests, but I fear it is only a matter of time before she snaps.

But aside from that, the month has been uneventful, if pleasant. Though I am to attend a meeting of fellow New York writers this Saturday, an event I keenly look forward to-it will provide much needed variation for me, and it will be nice chatting and mingling with others of my craft.

Though my tongue has been severed, the past week or two has gone quite well-in truth, losing my voice was not quite as crippling as I had feared, thanks to the marvels of writing, and I have been able to get by surprisingly well. I dare not ask for more favors of the House-my requests for aid regarding the scrying was too much as it is, and I fear even requesting aid in overcoming this debilitation will anger the Tlahtoāni. How embarrassing, for one such as myself to scrape and bow at the feet of a mortal... but then, pride is rather overrated.

More to the point. My own works have been steadily swelling in popularity-my first foray into writing fiction has turned out to be quite the hit, and there are countless mortals clamoring for more. Patience, I say to them, patience-more will come in time. One cannot rush art. Or, well, one can, but the result will certainly be inferior.

Kamaria is doing well, I am pelased to note-her aptitude in the arcane yet grows, and I have successfully taught her the art of summoning my Comets. A powerful spell indeed, for a novice such as she, but I have faith she can use it responsibly. Her own studies within college are going just as swimmingly-she has aced her finals, as I knew she would, and her future is bright indeed. I only hope it is not stolen away from her by some imbecile with a heart filled with hate-such foul ideology seems to be on the rise within America as of late. I pray she has the skills to defend herself, if it should come to it. But then, she is a mage-no ordinary mortal can hope to match her in combat.

Samantha, however, seems to have hit a rut as of late-the failure of xer writings to reach publishers has left xer with feelings of malcontent, and the gnawing fear that xe will never be a good enough writer. I have done what I can to assuage her fears-after all, even I was not an overnight success, and was forced to publish my books myself initially-but I fear xe will let the dark seeds of doubt take root and deter xer from a fruitful career...

And so does life continue, even in the face of my new disability. For all things must go on.