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[[These words are painstakingly scratched onto the parchment in watery uneven strokes]] [[These lines are scribbled hastily on crumpled vellum. From the stains and the changes in ink colour, you guess they were written over a long period of time.]]
What new madness is this? Is it not enough that I am to be tormented here for all time with the pain of my friends? The island is crawling with horrors and my ears are filled with the shrieks of mortals, torn apart for sport!
I cannot leave, I am cursed to stay, but I shall not stand by and watch others be so used! There must be some way I can help them.
I have heard one of them speak of the great horned temple, the way to leave this place, and of the six keys to its great door. The temple must be the one in Granvellusa. The keys, I fancy, are hidden away in the other temples.
They babble about a ritual hunt, as if this torture were a holy office! And their own temple, the emerald abomination, seems the key to all, their arsenal and their demesne. I have seen them foray out from it with their spears and their hounds of ice and fire.
For now it seems I am safe here, but I long to return to my little croft-cottage on Hartmoor, where I can bar the door, and blot out the screams. Perhaps my old armor might guard against the terrible spears. Perhaps the next poor soul brought here might gather the keys and escape.