scorched rune covered book, silk, small like a diary Zenobarra is the word on the cover in Elvish Final 7 pages are ripped out Page numbers aren't chromatic **Pages** 198 203 213 230 248 267 278 306 317 343 402 443 Gaps: 5 10 17 18 19 11 28 11 26 59 41 The way the lines are constructed could be poetry? should seek someone who is fluent in Elvish _Recovered from a scorched, rune-scored tome wrapped in tattered silk. The script is Elven, but degraded into personal shorthand. The final seven pages have been precisely removed._ ![[Diary of Zenobarra.webp]] --- ### _198_ > The gem sings when I sleep. > > Or perhaps not singing—more like… remembering. Like wind through glass. > > It was dormant when I bought it from the peddler in the Market Below. I thought it a curiosity. But during the last eclipse, it _woke_. > > There are glyphs in the facets. I see them when I close my eyes. I believe this may be a relic of fabled Jazir. --- ### _203_ > The dreams persist. > > Always the same: a desert of rust. A throne of half-buried starlight. > > A figure seated there, wrapped in silence and flame. > > Velethuil says I’ve grown cold. He doesn’t understand. He clings to the Labyrinth, to its riddles and pride. > > I’m chasing something _older_. --- ### _213_ > It is no gemstone. It is a vault. > > I laid a dying bird beside it. It vanished—soundlessly, cleanly. > > Now the light within has changed. I can feel a presence. > > It remembers the bird. --- ### _248_ > A child spoke to me with the voice of thunder. Called me “Vessel.” > > Said: _“The King does not forget.”_ > > Then she ran into the haze and vanished. > > The desert does not play tricks. It reveals truths too large to carry. --- ### _267_ > I hear them now. > > Not the King—not yet. > > But the voices of those held within the gem. > > Whispers like breath through a canyon. > > They are not gone. > > Only paused. --- ### _278_ > Today I bound a Tetrad sorcerer in the ruins of Ir Valis. > > She fought well. Screamed better. > > The stone dimmed slightly when it drank her. > > I believe it must be _fed_. > > If I fill it, the King may awaken. > > If I awaken Him… > > I will no longer be forgotten. --- ### _316_ > Velethuil came. > > His face was older, but his voice... his voice made me hesitate. > > I brought him to the Red Hollow. > > I told myself he would understand. > > I used him. The spell collapsed. He was flung back. > > I was left behind. --- ### _317_ > The Blindwatcher guards the gate. A sphinx older than story. > > She asked me what I valued. I said _memory._ > > She said: _“Not yet.”_ > > Then came the fall—like being swallowed by my own past. > > I awoke in the Vale of Ash. The gem was cool. --- ### _343_ > I have seen myself walking between corpses with the gem burning in my brow. > > I have seen cities rise from ash—then fall again by my hand. > > The King speaks no longer in visions, but in _symbols_. > > They appear in veins of metal, blood, and shadow. > > I read them. They point the way. > > The staff shall be mine. --- ### _399_ > The staff was real. I held it. > > Black glass, warm to the touch. It hummed with the same resonance as the stone. > > But Red Gregory has it now. That smug, woolly tyrant _knew_ what it was. He pretends to rule the Goddess, but he’s just another hoarder. > > I’ll take it back. --- ### _402_ > Time is… slippery. > > I no longer hunger. I no longer sleep. > > I saw a version of myself, bright-eyed and foolish, clinging to scrolls. I hid from her. > > The gem is filling. > > The light is _changing_. --- ### _443_ > I have found the key. > > The final step is not a path. It is a _thought._ > > A thought so sharp it can cut the veil. > > I am ready. > > _(Seven pages follow. Torn clean from the binding.)_