*Many pages of the journal are blank, this being the final written account of the book: a letter to the one it is meant for. A few of the words are smudged, yet still legible; splatters of darkened parchment suggest the author may have been shedding tears at the time of writing.*
Cyfier,
There is much that I must say, but so little that I can put into words at this time, thus I pass possession of this journal to you in the hopes that you may come to understand some of that which I have failed to convey. You wished to see my true face once; perhaps in this manner, you may do so.
I shall begin by stating that I fear you. At this time you, a beloved friend, terrify me. I may be scared of you, but I will kneel to no man; not again. Though my heart may quake, I will stand straight and steady as I speak the words that you do not wish to hear. It may be that you will punish me for such an action, but that all-too-real possibilty will not still my tongue or cause my resolve to falter. I will do as I must, regardless of what you may think of me for it.
You spoke earlier of slaying me, yet still do I remain, seeking to sway you from this destructive course. My words fall upon deaf ears, yet still do I speak them in the vain hope that you will listen. You walk further and further away, deeper into the darkest of shadows, to places that I cannot follow, yet still do I wait, praying that you will return.
This war you believe that you wage, it is false. I know not who convinced you that it must be fought, that you must lose yourself to fight it. I know only that the Legion are scattered to the winds, that the Knights are few and weakened. I know only that you are becoming the very thing you sought to prevent. I watch you descend ever deeper into this poisonous pit of madness and I despair.
The atrocties you perpetrate, the desire to kill any opposition, the willingness to enslave other people; these are not the acts of a fair man. They are not the acts of a just man. They are not the acts of a man fighting for the freedom of others. These things belong in the far north of Angmar with my erstwhile kinsman; a people who have built their very culture around deceit, the pursuit of power and bloodshed.
Please, dear one, put an end to this. Do not allow it to go any further than it already has. Vengeance is a venom that burns all around it, ultimately destroying the one who acts under its influence. Do not lay waste to everything you care for, and all of those who care for you. Walk away whilst you still can, I beg of you. Come back to me and once more begin to build the dreams of which you spoke. Walk once more in the light and bask in its warmth.
Alas, I have little doubt that my pleas will go unheeded. It breaks my heart to know that I have failed you already; once again, I was not strong enough to save that which was most precious to me. Claws of deepest night have wrested you away from my tender grasp. I doubt that we shall meet again for I have no further use to you, but I cling desperately to the optimistic wish that I am incorrect.
Ni-yôzi zîr ki-yad. My love goes with you, wherever your feet may tread.
Ilaru.
