General / 02 May 2024

Eldan's Journal 2 - Date Unknown

Tonight, beneath a sky veiled more by sorrow than by clouds, I pen these lines—a confessional to no one and everyone. The echo of my actions, though centuries old, resounds with a clarity that mocks the silence of my isolation.

This day, I faced a reckoning of sorts; an unassuming village, teetering on the precipice of despair, sought a deliverance I knew all too well. They feared a creeping blight—an ethereal wraith that preyed upon their hopes much like the shadows encroach upon the fading light. In my folly, I recognized my own dark heralds in its advance.

I intervened, not as a savior, but as a seasoned bearer of burdens who knows the weight of sin and the gravity of salvation. The task was grisly, demanding the kind of resolution that once cost me my soul. To eradicate the blight, a sacrifice was required—innocence for the greater good. A young lad, his eyes wide with the dawning of an unspoken question, became the unwitting cornerstone of their survival. My hands, though steady, were not clean.

As the village celebrated its murky reprieve, I retreated to the shadows, the specter of the boy's final gaze haunting me more than any ghost of my eternal wanderings. What is the measure of redemption? Is it weighed by the lives saved at the expense of one? The scales of justice, in my weary hands, are as unbalanced as the heart within my chest.

In these moments of quietude, I find no respite, only the relentless march of a guilt that is both companion and warden. The echoes of the boy’s unasked question linger, "Why me?"—a query that mirrors my own existential plight. With each step on this endless road, I am both the anvil and the hammer, shaping my destiny through actions that both forge and fracture.

What solace is there for one such as I, who walks the twilight between damnation and deliverance? Each deed, whether for good or ill, weaves the complex tapestry of my existence—a pattern obscured by the very threads that compose it.

In the quiet after the storm, as the stars dare to pierce the night once more, I ponder whether my path is one of penance or merely another cycle of endless torment. The answers, like the stars, remain distant and indifferent to the plights of men or immortals. Yet, I press onward, a soul adrift on the tides of time, seeking a harbor that may yet exist beyond the horizon of my deeds.