February 18, 22,016 B.F.P.

A shadow has fallen upon my existence, a sinister presence that gnaws at the edges of my sanity. The tides of my emotions have become tumultuous seas, stirred by a force beyond my comprehension. It is an affliction that defies description—a haunting and malevolent force that has entrenched itself within the depths of my being.

In the annals of time, a creature known as Duarsht Dekir surfaces—a creature borne of darkness, akin to a demon, possessing the power to infiltrate the very core of existence. I, once untouched by its malevolence, find myself ensnared within its grip. The struggle for control, the battle to subdue the tempestuous waves of negativity it conjures, is an ordeal that tests the limits of my resolve.

Six decades have unfurled since this affliction first took root—a span of time that stretches like an eternity before me. The ink within this journal, once a vessel for my thoughts, has been held captive by the clutches of this entity. The pages, untouched and barren, mirror the emptiness that has seeped into my soul.

It whispers of its nature—a Duarsht Dekir—a malevolent force that feasts upon negative emotions, amplifying them with each passing moment. It weaves a tale of possession, of claiming even the most sacred bonds. Luseiru, her name now a harbinger of pain, was once a vessel for this darkness. But her union with Kodron, a union forged in the fires of love, proved to be its undoing, expelling the specter from her soul.

Yet, its spectral tendrils have now ensnared me—a hapless victim of its relentless pursuit. Its hunger, its desire to satiate its insatiable appetite for emotions, found resonance within my heart. The emotions I still held for her, like an ember smoldering in the darkness, became the beacon that guided its intrusion into my soul.

The agony of this coexistence is a torment that defies words—a struggle between my own emotions and the sinister force that now shares my being. It whispers thoughts that are not my own, amplifying the agony that courses through my veins. The melding of our emotions, an unholy union, has ignited a tempest within me—a tempest that churns and rages, threatening to engulf all that I once held dear.

In this moment of clarity, as I inscribe these words through the veil of mental anguish, I am seized by uncertainty. I have become something more, something powerful, but the nature of this transformation is shrouded in shadows. The path that stretches before me is obscured by the mists of uncertainty, and I am left to navigate this abyss with naught but my wits and a flicker of hope.

As the ink dries upon this page, I am gripped by a sense of isolation—the isolation of a soul locked in a struggle against itself. The confines of this journal have become a realm of desperate pleas and silent screams, a realm that echoes with the resonance of a battle that rages within. The words I pen are a testament to my suffering, a lament for the innocence that has been tainted, and a plea for salvation from the relentless grip of the Duarsht Dekir.