Many, many months is it since I have written here. Too long at books. I am telling myself this but at the same time I cannot truly think it, for if it were true, then that dearest of ones is also at fault and I know them not to be. I cannot imagine they ever could be.

Yet when I finally left my sanctuary having donned my armour, still smarting at the heat and the weight of it and the discomfort of carrying my shield and sword, I found the real meaning of what it is to neglect the lands. No adventurer did I pass. None answered birds. The lands were as cold and empty as the Dead Zone itself. And then as I entered the forest I began to feel I had fallen into slumber in the Dark Lands by way of accident for I have never seen so many demons. Spiders at the cave, demons on the paths, entering Milltown creatures foul and unwelcome. The desert overrun with demons, scorpions and the gods now what else. Demons at the wall, under the wall, in the wastelands. I fought and fought as hard as I could having first answered a call to that sacred City, Branishor. I was passing demons by that I could not fight without a thought which I would never usually do without ensuring I or another could guard them until properly dispatched. But there were so many, and some so foul, I could not afford to stand. I thought it better to dispatch those I could. Besides, there were none to call to aid. Coming into Branishor I was beset with vile enemies – demons of such strength that even with my holy ring I could not conquer them without their blades and teeth and bile biting into me forcing me to run for my very life, heal and try again. Finally it was no use – I met a brave roguish woman indeed – far, far stronger than I - who urged me on as the creatures were too cowardly to fight her. There was another, she told me. But I let her down. Tired as I was the foul thing I was trying to bring down trapped me and stopped my attempts at flight until it had the savage delight of destroying me and throwing me to the mercy of my beloved gods.

So tired was I, so utterly wasted that I fell to the ground and into an exhausted unconsciousness. When I awoke again – I do not know how much later – all was quiet again. No demons – all quelled. And just a few message birds – a very few – and yet so very dear. Ixon – dear Ixon – abroad and well. Topaz who I would hardly dare to face so long it seems since we spoke. Naridith and Bris – dear dedicated brethren.

But not that one, longed-for message.