A Fractured Past
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There’s something I should’ve told you long before now, but… Couldn’t. That journal we’ve been following it wasn’t just pulled from some ruin. It belonged to my great-grandfather’s great grandfather. Orlen Varnholt.
He found this place during the fall of havensong, when the Revenant were tearing cities apart. While others fled, Orlen ran toward the Enclave. And it changed him. He took in their rites, breathed their language. Bound himself to something ancient. Maybe he died. maybe he didn’t.
But the writing is too sharp. Too current. Like he knows what we’ll find, like he never left. It’s as if he’s writing in the pages of the journal NOW. He wants us to unlock what’s sealed away. But if I keep going, I fear I’ll end up like him.
The amulet I wear is Orlen’s. It’s laced with enchantments I barely understand, but they’ve kept me tethered. And now? it’s slipping. There’s an elf. Enchanter Lothira. She’s an outcast, in Sorhiryth. Take her the amulet. And tell her… I’m running out of time.
Hand-in Dialog (beware: possible spoilers)
Ministry dogs… of course they came. Valori may play coy, but don’t doubt for a minute it was him.
But more importantly, you brought the amulet back. And it still resonates… it’s still his.
He may have vanished into the smoke, but I’m not ready to follow. Not yet. Not while this amulet still burns with whatever clarity I have left.
You’ve done more than bring me a relic. You’ve given me time. And maybe, just maybe, a way to end this differently than he did.
Now… on to more pressing matters. We’re one step closer to discovering whatever the Barren Queen sealed behind those doors.
Le me decipher the next passage.