I don't know why they wanted to kill me, and why my friend wanted to silence me. After seeing what I am, they must have thought I was a monster; I could see the fear in their eyes. I had been called many things over the years – a goddess, a vengeful spirit, but never, until today, had I been called a demon.
The world can call me what they wish, but I at least want you know me for who and what I truly am, my love. That's why I've taken this empty book with me when I fled my Sanctuary – so that I could at least leave something behind for you – so that you, at least, could understand me.
With how long and complicated my life has been, these few pages may not be enough…
Well… Where to start? Maybe I can talk about that one time I was crafted from a stone and given life? No. That would be too confusing. Let's go a little before that.
Rik, you may have heard legends growing up of a great demon descending from the skies and battling the gods – crushing the prosperous era of the olden days and making the world forget how to use magic. The story is mostly true, but never mind that. My story begins before that terrible day.
It was a time when every small village had a shaman to erect barriers to protect from wild beasts and conspiring men. They had shamans to grow their crops and gods to keep the weather fair. That was my era.
This journal of mine is mostly filled with my own experiences. However, to fill the gaps, I've written down a few accounts that I've managed to collect over the millennia.
Now, this journal, I leave to you. Make sure you keep it safe. I've written it in ancient Amodian – a dead language only you and I should know now. However, just to be safe, don't let anyone read it don't let anyone KNOW about it.
There's some very confidential information in here, so… do it for me, please. Even if you've come to hate me by the time you read this… please…