[ IP ] Winding River

You spot a leather book bound with a soft, silken ribbon lying on a nearby makeshift table. It was created by a stripped log atop several large rocks. As you near it, you see it's stained with various spots of red and grey, along with the number of pages being incredibly sparse for having such a large binding. With curiosity burning a hole in your chest, you chose to open it. The first page was half filled with standardized lettering. At the top western corner laid a small, inked number; 
 
 **Page 75** 
 *If you are reading this, congratulations. You found my residence, that, admittedly, could do with something nicer. I have now forgotten how to return to society and where that said society may even be located. My family is only a distant memory, as they are nothing but names now. My spouse is Lilirelle na ’ vanheil Izraut, and the names of our children are lost to me. I can not even recall where we lived, nor a shred of evidence that invokes a towns name. * 
 
 *I have blood-family, if that is what a non-Lynytrialik would call it. Their memories leave a sense of fond warmness and safety, like a pyre-ground filled with merry. I try not to remember what they look like. It is best not to. Their faces are blank slates, and their voices make no sound. The dread that brings is no fun, and I would rather let it lie. * 
 
 *I do not know how I got here, and I do not care to leave. If you are here to take me back, I will not go without a fight, and believe me, I am prepared with the necessary skill to kill you. Personally, you may make a great meal. I really am getting tired of khiroterians…* 
 
 **Page 79, ‘ Long River ’ ** 
 *To start, this is but a memory, I can not recount many details and for that I am sorry. I am not particularly certain what day it is I am writing this, nor am I certain that it is day at all. Most of my past are vivid images between periods of nothingness. * 
 
 *I had collapsed the day before on soft grass that smelled of home. Though, I do not remember collapsing there, next to that stream. My body ached and cried in protest as I had willed my legs to stand. Looking down, blood drenched my clothes and caked itself on my skin, mixing with mud and grass. Off in the horizon sat a mountain that towered over the rest of the land. The peak was not visible, and the natural monstrosity cast a shadow over the plains that clouded all I could see. Little did I know, that I would come to know that place as something dark and regretful, though off-puttingly beautiful. * 
 
 *Reluctantly, I made my way down the bank to find a more suitable area of water. The one I had woke up next to was shallow, and filled with jagged rocks. It looked appealing from a distance. The water was somewhat foggy, disguising its perilous personality. Although, as much as I do loathe to admit, the water there had looked tempting enough to wade into. The sooner my body was rid of blood, the better. Some cuts had been still open and bleeding. I remember that part clearly, I had looked down to find the hand clutched against my stomach was covered in crimson. * 
 
 *Honestly, I can not say why I was still standing. Sure, nausea had set in and my head was killing me. At this point, I could not tell if it was from the blood loss or the overwhelming smell of copper. Maybe it was just my own humanity. No, not the ‘ humanity ’ that gives me morals and a sense of right or wrong. The ‘ humanity ’ that rather gives me a reason to strive for life and find a will to live. Perhaps that is the wrong word I am thinking of and honestly, it does not matter. It was long ago, and, at the time, my mind was hazy, driving me forward in a zombie-like state to cleanse my body of the infection that wanted to set in. * 
 
 *The grass I had walked on turned to stone as I reached a plateau, overlooking the river as it kept going into the distance. It forked, and then continued on in its spindly course. From here it looked as if the divergence met itself again, and went directly into the underside of the mountain. As I had approached I couldn ’ t get a decent view of where it led exactly. The side appeared to touch the ground. There was not even a chip in its side that looked like a cave. * 
 
 *At this point, I was at the end of the river and there was definitely no sanctuary. It simply dropped off into the abyss, to another land below this one. * 
 
 Your impatience getting the best of you, you skipped to the last page, more interested in how their story left off than how it went. The inked number at the top was one thousand eighty-eight. There definitely were not even a thousand. It barely felt like there were three-hundred left. 
 
 **Page 1088** 
 *My name is San ra ’ del Wilheim* 
 *My spouse is Lilirelle na ’ vanheil Izraut* 
 These same two lines litter the page repeatedly to the bottom, each letter slightly misshapen. 
 
 **Page 1087** 
 The previous pattern continues, though halfway down the page it changed. The line of * ‘ My name is San ra ’ del Wilheim ’ * is no longer written, just the second about their spouse and is written as follows; 
 * ‘ My spouse ~~is~~ was Lilirelle na ’ vanheil Izraut ’ * 
 
 **Page 1086** 
 There is little of a page left. It was crudely ripped out. 
 
 **Page 1085** 
 Sporadic and unrefined the -- attempted -- straight lines spiraled into a mess, written as * ‘ My spouse was Lilirelle na ’ vanheil Izraut'. * Overtop the chaotic writing laid * ‘ She was ’ * in large letters. 
 
 **Page 1084** 
 The words * ‘ My name is San ra ’ del Wilheim ’ * are all that are written here, taking up a single line and nothing more. 
 
 You feel slightly overcome with emotion, though hard to tell which. Were you upset? Perhaps this decline in mind made you feel sad, or even a little lost? What was it about those pages that made you feel that way? Was it because it made you feel like you knew this person, or simply because you have gone through the same thing? It was simply a way to remember their name and their lover, stranded here in the vast expanse of sky and land. Had you had the choice, mayhaps you would ’ ve done the same. You were lost once, yes, and you lost all but your body. 
 
 Behind you sounded a scuffling on the stones. Your paranoia tore you from the book as you whirled around, dropping it on the makeshift table with a loud thud. To your surprise, it was only your companion. You relaxed your hand that was tightly gripping your sheathed dagger with a sigh. “ Damnit, Goltir… ” you muttered. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you picked the book up and stared at the last page. The name written within the book sound familiar, though you can not place from where. 
 
 ( I apologize for any formatting errors ^^; first post on reddit though I have been writing from stuff here for a few days now. Just testing the waters < 3 )
