The Diary of Lantlos Verin
This is it. We’re absolutely dead. It’s starting to happen everywhere now. Temporal loops, plane shifts, the impossible brutality; It’s just like last time.
They’ve all been seeded by the unending plague of the far realms. Everywhere they go, madness and chaos spring forth. Cyanwrath is just the start; the Herald of more to come. I thought if they dealt with Astal maybe we could be free of all of this. 4000 years, done again and again, for the same outcome. Forcing Atmos’ hand wasn’t the smartest plan, I’ll admit, but it got us to Astal, and that’s the furthest anyone has gotten.
23 times. 23 times we have tried and failed, and nobody even knows. I suppose it’s time I let someone else handle this.
To my new friends, I’m sorry. This is your burden now. Telis is the last place on this world that remained since those days, 4000 years ago, and I’ve fought every day to protect it.
You must all leave this place. You must all see that the rest of the world lies in ruin. Telis is no longer safe, though I have tried my damnedest to save it.
It’s your turn now. In the morning, I will be gone, trying again, 4000 years ago, for the 24th time. This is the price I pay in order to finally see the morning after Greenrest burns.
resting next to the book is Lantlos’ weapon, with one final carving under the words “Return to Sender”. Scrawled in a shaking hand, hastily carved, imperfect: “Please”