SE Short: Wizent's Journal (Part 5)
Loest took a deep breath, focusing on the words he'd just read. It was beyond belief, that the answers he so desperately sought might be contained in the pages. It was no wonder Kairos had been sent to collect the book during the attack on the Vale. If his father had been seeing things, it’s possible he might have unraveled the mysteries of this war and the mystical crystals that had started it. That idea spurred him on, and Loest reopened the book to read further.
Except there was nothing else.
Whatever pages had comprised the end of the book had been ripped out. Only fragments of pages remained; not enough was left behind to make out even a single word. Though there were likely many answers in those pages, they no longer were within his reach. Rather, now the very foe he'd been seeking to get ahead of now had them. He'd risked his life, and potentially the plans of Gunther's forces, to retrieve this book. He'd risked it all for nothing.
In a fit of rage, Loest hurled the book with all the might he could muster into the brush around him. The rage should have been filling him, consuming him entirely, but instead he just felt empty. His body ached; it'd been weeks since he'd eaten anything that wasn't traveling rations, and he was just so tired. The disappointment was too much to add to all of it. Yet he couldn't just let himself sit here and wallow in it. He had to get moving to a better location, somewhere his pursuers wouldn't immediately kill him while he slept.
Reaching out, he picked up his father's journal, the end of which had been stolen from him. The cover caught on the brush, and he was forced to tug harder than he'd liked to free it. With a grimace, he heard the tear before he could see it. A small section of the leather had separated from the hard binding, creating a small pouch. Loest inspected it carefully; though the book might not hold any strategic value now, it was all he had left of his father and that still meant something. The inspection revealed an unexpected result, though, when he noticed a folded sheet of paper inside.
Gently he freed the paper, taking great effort not to widen the tear, and succeeding for the most part. He unfolded the page slowly, his curiosity at war with his caution. It could easily have been a trap left for him when the book was stolen, a guarantee that any secrets which had been missed would not be found by anyone else, but Loest knew on some instinctive level that it wasn't. Something told him he was meant to find it, exactly as he had. When he at last laid eyes on the scribbled writing of Wizent on the page, he knew his instincts had been right.
Dearest Loest,
There are no words to express how sorry I am for the burden I've placed upon you. Were there any other way, or any other person I could trust to bear it then know that none of the Seven or gods of other nations would have stopped me. Yet only you have the heart and strength to do what will need done, and it is for that reason I've left you these words.
At first I despised the visions that came to me, I believed them a curse. Admittedly, I still would not have envied any man who saw what was to come, but I know Arada gave them to me so that I could help guide you on the path. That came with a sacrifice, but I want you to know I made it willingly. It was the only way you would have survived the attack on our temple, and there exists no man worthy of being called a father who wouldn't do the same.
I know our last goodbye was too short, so I took great pains to ensure this one made it to you. You deserve that, at the least. Yet, it cannot only be sentimental I'm afraid. There is work to be done, and despite the gift of prophecy I had no way to warn the forces that need it. That is the first thing I must ask of you.
You've seen the weapon the Shadow seeks to build. Loest, my son, that weapon will turn their armies into monstrosities we cannot defend against. It will poison Balor to its core, and it will be the moment that ends our world. If the Shadow prevails, we will be unable to defend against what comes next. That is why I put all of my hope and trust in you.
You must warn the human armies, and aid them in the assault to stop this from happening. The cost for victory will be high, but I know you. The price will be paid, and our world will stand a chance for survival. The only hope we have is for our people to find the light to counter the Shadows.
Loest, the things I ask of you are unfair. I know this, and I hope that someday you will forgive me. I love you with all my heart, and though I was not responsible for your birth, know that I am proud of you. You are a better man than any that came before you. I wish, so desperately to write more, to tell you of everything I know, but there is no more time.
As you read this, the wolf-like beasts sent to scout your trail are getting closer. They'll be on you in minutes, but there is time. There is a creek just over the hill to your left, follow it until it ends and then keep going straight. The armies are moving, but you will find them there. This is the last gift I can give you.
With love and hope,
Wizent
He wanted so badly to take the time to absorb what had been said, but when a prophet warned you that time was short, it wasn't the best of ideas to delay. Instead Loest stuffed the book and letter back into his bag and broke from his hiding place in a dead run. The words had inspired him and given him what he needed: a reason to keep moving. With them, he was able to push the pain and fatigue back. He wouldn't let his father down, not with something this important. He would run until he made it to the armies. He would warn them of the weapon being built in Fort Balor. He would fight alongside them, and pay any price to protect those who needed it.
He was Loest, son of Wizent.
