Ameshirel: A World Undone
A Fleeting Memory
I remember. I… Remember. Oh god I remember everything.
Today I was finally able to utilise one of the spells I figured out recently as it was an enlightening and horrifying experience. I can barely believe it myself, I didn’t expect to enter where I did when I blinked. Blunk? That’s unimportant! I need to get this down whilst I still can. Everything’s so fleeting now a days these moments of clarity need to be saved. But here I am rambling, mother always said I had a problem getting my words out… She’s so clear now but soon she’ll be nothing but a shadow.
I expected to just enter another plane, a safe plane so that I couldn’t be harmed during battle. It was such an effective tactic. Cast a spell, exit onto another plane, enter again and repeat. Simple. Elegant. Safe. I was sick of being crushed by goblinoids, demons and all the violent monsters we throw ourselves into. It was going to be an empty plane to, but I guess my demented, drug addled mind could only remember one.
I saw it. I saw everything and I remembered. The great tree, the bubbling springs, the moons, the creatures in their magnificent, translucent brilliance. The blood circle. The fae wilds or… Is it the wilds? I… My memories already fading. Curse this! Curse this addled and childish mind that’s all that’s left of my true self.
What’s important is what I didn’t see though. Last time I was there, though it was so long ago and I was so very young, it was full of people. My family, my people, my god. They were suppose to welcome me with open arms and congratulate me, tell me how right I was all along, that they trust me again. That they were so wrong to try to remove me from the others. There was nothing though. Emptiness for as far as I can see. The husks and wisps of beasts still lingered but not even close to the power they had. All the natural lights had dimmed. The ah… The… Curses! The big rocks in the sky, what ever they are called, they weren’t there anymore.
The only thing that still remained was the fountain. But he was no longer aflame. No longer bleeding into the pools around him. This cannot be a good sign.
The tears have returned. They have been on and off since the long run back to the magicians tower. I don’t want to even attempt to write his name again. Last time was horrendously embarrassing. The look that snivelling little halfling gave me was… Well it wasn’t his fault, he’s such a nice little guy. I tried to help sweep the stairs but he said I was doing it wrong and NO! No, I’m slipping again. I have so much to say though and so little time. Aishling has been chasing me around non-stop this whole time trying to look after my wounds, I was finally able to get away from him after screaming at him to take care of Mourns. As I have learnt, angering gods is not a smart idea. I can’t believe Johannesz let my perfect face get so…
(In noticeably different handwriting, like one writing with a fist)
Oh my journal! I was wondering where this was! I thought I may have lost it or the mouth goop had eaten it. Why was it open? Was someone writing in my book? I can’t really make out what it says, it’s written so fancy and in that really special eleven script that always hurts my head. This one is super doing it. Why does my head hurt so much? And now my eyes are leaking again. All of this wasted blood. And my chest hurts.
I miss home. I love you sister