• 15/11: Dia bem lento. Estou doente (de novo, pra variar), e escrevi apenas 2.210 palavras. Total: 33.368 palavras nas duas semanas anteriores + 2.210 hoje, 35.578.
• 16/11: Escrevi um pouco mais, mas né, ainda doente. 2.540 palavras apenas. Total: 40.118.
• 17/11: Ainda doente e ainda sem ir pra faculdade por causa da cirurgia. Escrevi 2.192 palavras apenas. Total: 42.310. 
• 18/11: Finalmente (ou não) de volta à faculdade, mas surpreendentemente, consegui escrever 2.709 palavras. Total: 45.019
• 19/11: Melhor dia da semana. Escrevi 3.062 palavras \o/ Total: 48.081.
• 20/11: O grande dia!!!! Escrevi 2.060 palavras e finalmente cheguei nas 50 mil! Total: 50.141.
• 21/11: Agora que cheguei nas 50k, diminuirei o ritmo. Hoje escrevi apenas 1.775. Total: 51.916.

The princess was silent for a moment. “If this person wanted to bring the seeds of these flowers and plants to Neora,” she said finally, eyes still on him. “And grow them here, would it be possible?”
“In Neora? No.” He bit his lip. “Not for us, anyway.” Seeing the look on the princess’s face, he added, quickly, “Magic, my princess. The weather of Neora is not adequate for growing these plants and flowers, but with magic someone could, theoretically, change the weather of a small place to accommodate them. But even then, the magic necessary for this would be too great.”
Princess Saoirse’s eye were wide with surprise. “You seem to know a lot about these things, Prince Lysander.”
He gave her his best smile, trying to ignore the alarmed hum of the angels in his mind and how his heart seemed to stop for a second. “I’m sure you probably have already heard about my… health problems, my lady. It gives me a lot of free time, and there is only so much you can do to keep boredom away when you can’t move much. That’s where the libraries come in.”
She nodded, still eyeing him with a mix of interest and suspicion, and then sighed. “Magic is out of the question, as you probably know, my prince.”
“That’s why I said it would not be possible for us, my lady.” Lysander smiled again. “Unless someone can somehow use magic to change the weather, it can’t be done. And, like I said, even if this person could, the magic necessary would kill them if they tried to do it in Neora. It’s too high, and too cold.”
“Let’s say this person can use magic,” the princess began slowly. “If they tried it here, would they probably die?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“But what about other cities? Lower cities?”
Lysander hesitated. “Maybe only in Nevrocata, my princess. It’s the lowest city of all, but even there it would be hard, I think.”
They went silent for some time. Lysander eyed the princess with curiosity, but she wasn’t looking in his direction; she stared at nothing, lost in thoughts. Why was she making these questions? Had someone used the elven poison recently? That would be almost impossible, as he had just said, and Lysander couldn’t think of anyone who could…
He straightened up. “My princess,” he said, unable to keep the shock from his voice. “Do you think the Iron Queen was murdered?”