A stained journal page written in shaky cursive lettering
It was, I realized, just like my dream. I ran. I ran and ran, though thorns tore at my feet. I heard the howling of wolves again. Bats flew at my face as if to warn me to go back, before it was too late. Go back before he gets angry. Go back, to save...
Escape Страница A stained journal page written in shaky cursive lettering - в базе данных New World Guide of Lore
It was, I realized, just like my dream. I ran. I ran and ran, though thorns tore at my feet. I heard the howling of wolves again. Bats flew at my face as if to warn me to go back, before it was too late. Go back before he gets angry. Go back, to save your brother. But the woman was dutifully waiting for me at the edge of the castle grounds, and directed me through a side gate. A coach. Horses galloping, carriage trundling and rocking wildly in the urgency of our flight. As I dismounted I heard and saw their foaming jaws, and was reminded again of the sea that day, when the undead crawled forth to greet us.
My mind was aswirl with questions. I wondered for the hundredth time, why she would go to this extent for me. Did she love me? Did she love my brother? Would she devour him? Would He consume him? And why, knowing that staying behind could only end in misery, would my brother have chosen to stay? Did he love her as I had loved the man I’d so easily called my Master? I could not face the other truth, the real one which I hid from myself. Edward had sacrificed himself for me. No, that story is a lie. But a lie is merely a truth we cannot live with.
A ship did wait for me, though my heart had protested wildly that it would not. Now at journey’s end, I know not where I am, only that the ship moved without crew, and landed here. When I disembarked, my heart sank. For this castle, its structure, was built in the same fashion as the castle I’d escaped from. I had not gone far, not far enough. I shall find a way out, I shall find a way free, and I shall come back for my brother. I will find Petru, Marten and Satyre. And He, I shall destroy Him. I shall find it in my heart, the strength to do so. I will.
But even now, I feel Him getting closer. Closer to the shadows in which I huddle in gibbering fear. He is in a rage. He is here. He clutches me close with clawed fingers. And He whispers with the breath of a moldering grave. “You thought you had escaped me, but you shall never leave my side.”