Janus Entry 10
91 Autumn, 2978
We’ve lost a companion. Apparently, after Lucullus and I were cursed trying to enter the Valley of the Kings so that we could loot the resting place Garion’s ancestors so that we could finance the bolstering of Zeal, The King, The Scholar, and The Proselytizer left our unconscious bodies in The Dragon’s care and pressed forward into the Dead City. Now, things are foggy, because I only have this second hand, but it seems that Miranda got her soul imprisoned, causing Garion to lose his mind and try to kill Kyana. But they both survived, and came back with treasure and our friend’s body. I’m told that in the end, her soul was freed to go on to whatever afterlife she can expect. I am saddened by her loss.
It would have been bad enough just enduring the bloody curse.
I found myself in my father’s house, although the walls appeared to be stained red with blood that continued to flow from them. I could hear distant, hauntingly familiar screams echoing from somewhere almost beyond my perception. As I was taking in the nightmare before me, I found myself running down a hallway, gasping for breath as though I had been at it for days unnumbered. Worse still, I ran with a shortened stride, and as I looked down, I realized that I was only seven years old again. I could hear the heavy foot falls coming from behind me, and I knew instinctively that they belonged to my father. The instinctive terror gave me renewed energy, though my lungs ached for release from the exertion.
I ran on, it seemed for weeks, the stomping boots of that slobbering, stinking monster of a man always just behind me and, impossibly, always gaining. I dared a glance over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of the man, his face filthy with stubble, blood, and things best left to the imagination. He was somehow even more horrid than I recalled, disgusting and distorted, his bleary eyes glowing red, then glinting yellow, then burning with a deep orange. In desperation, I sought a corner, a nook, anything that would serve as a hiding place, so that I could stop this damnable running. The hallway, it seemed, had no end, however, and though every fiber of my young body seemed to burn with flame, still I ran, my tormentor in persistent pursuit.
As if this were not hell enough, the hallway began to warp and twist, the floor becoming a chest deep pool of congealed blood, the surface of which I broke through, scraping my knees. As I struggled to scramble out of the sticky pit and continue my endless dash, a barbed net flew over my small form, the points digging cruelly into my exposed flesh. I tore free from the traps and stumbled to my feet once more, miraculously remaining ahead of the monster. The hall began to wind and seemed to turn back on itself at times, threatening to take me closer to the object of my greatest fear…
And my darkest sin.
. . .
We met with the council once more this evening, having acquired and donated ample coin to maintain the city and grow its defenses as we leave for Solis and then north to Helvada. Luxandra has lent us the use of one of her agents, a canny fiery haired gnome with a heart for adventure to rival my own. He once dwelt in Solis, and should be able to help us greatly in determining where we might find the Spear of Destiny, the artifact that we believe to be the key to both saving Lucullus’s home nation and discovering a remedy for the Reaper Plague, of which so many still suffer.
May the Sun shine upon our journey.
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