General / 01 May 2024

Eldan's Journal 1 - Date Unknown

The dusk gathers, and with it, my thoughts turn inward, tracing the jagged edges of memory and consequence. Tonight, my solace is as thin as the crescent moon hanging low in the heavens, a mere sliver of light in the enveloping darkness.

I encountered a ghost town today, remnants of laughter and life eroded by time and neglect. They called it a haven once, a place of refuge from the world’s harsh whims. Now, it stands as a monument to abandonment, each crumbling wall a testament to forgotten promises.

In the quiet of the deserted streets, I found her—a woman spectral in her grief, her presence almost as insubstantial as the fog that clung to the ground. Her sorrow was palpable, a heavy cloak that suffocated the air around us. She was searching for her lost child, her voice a whisper of despair, echoing down the lonely pathways of the ghost town.

The child, taken by shadows not of this world, held in thrall in a realm that mocked the very concept of time. To retrieve him required stepping beyond the veil, into a labyrinth of past misdeeds and spectral pain—a journey fraught with peril, not just to the body, but to the soul.

I agreed to guide her, to traverse the haunted corridors of that other place. Our passage was a descent into ancient woes, each step a peeling back of the layers of my own long-buried transgressions. The air was thick with the scent of regret, and the shadows whispered of sins best left forgotten.

At the journey's end, in a room that held more darkness than space, we found the child. But his rescue was not without cost. To free him from his spectral chains, a trade was demanded—a memory of mine, steeped in a pain so profound that its absence left a void within me, a blank space where once there was anguish.

As we returned to the world of the living, the woman's relief was a balm to the hollow ache within me. Yet, as they faded into the burgeoning dawn, a part of me mourned the loss of my pain, for even in agony, there was a reminder of times when I was more than this wandering shade.

Now, as the moon retreats behind the encroaching dark, I sit amidst the ruins of the ghost town, a specter among specters. What am I if not a collection of my experiences? And who am I, if pieces of me are left behind in the dark corners of the worlds I traverse?

The answers elude me, as elusive as the peace I seek. So, I write these words, a testament to the journey, and to the ghosts—both literal and figurative—that I cannot escape. My path continues, ever forward, into the night that offers no end.