Chapter Text
The sky outside was dark and the air was heavy.
On the horizon the land was illuminated by flashes of lightning that showed the coming storm.
As he stood there watching, the land told him of previous storms and the death that they had wrought. It whispered to him about the hunts for beasts long lost to time on these grounds and of forgotten bones under its soil. With each flash of lightning, he saw stories long since told being written.
The stories of people lost before this island was even formed.
He gazed at the coming storm long enough that it had almost reached him before he turned and walked back under the rock overhang he was currently calling his home.
There would be time for reminiscing later, when Death had come to take him home and his life had written his story into this land as well.
For now, it was time to hope.
Hope that the words and the story he was about to write would help someone, anyone.
Hope that he wouldn’t be forgotten, wouldn’t just become another story only remembered by the land he walked upon.
He picked up the leather he painstakingly crafted and cut his skin until his blood, red and a reminder his heart still beat, ran over his skin.
Then he started to write with it.
To those reading this book, welcome. Be proud for you have lived longer than many of our forefathers, long enough to learn how to read, and long enough to find the ramblings of a half-mad and half-dead Necromancer.