My dearest friend,
Many times in the past, you asked me to recollect our journey. To tell againn the tale of the quest for the elemental stones. Time and time again, I denied you this request. Until now. Though I have grown older, and my mind is not as clear as it once was, I feel it is time to put our memories to paper. Not just for ourselves, but for the sake of others, so that they may gain everlasting knowledge from our defeats and from our victories.
Much preparation has gone into the making of this reaccountment. I had to visit many old friends and a few enemies. I retraced our steps through Pylasia, returned to those sites of great importance, so that I could give you a document as accurate as possible.
But forgive me if my story focuses more upon my own journey. After all, I am telling it. Why shouldn't it be about me?
Now, I sit in bed, a lonely candle illuminating the room, pen and parchment before me. My lover, you know him well, sleeps soundlessly beside me. I think back, forgetting the notes I have to aid me, to recall where our adventures first began. And I remember. Though I am miles from the nearest coast, the smell of sea-salt drifts towards me. My senses and my mind return to the bow of that massive ship. I remember a young girl, mature to the world, but naive to her own heart. It seemed most of us innocent in one way or another.
Yes, that was where our story began.
Many times in the past, you asked me to recollect our journey. To tell againn the tale of the quest for the elemental stones. Time and time again, I denied you this request. Until now. Though I have grown older, and my mind is not as clear as it once was, I feel it is time to put our memories to paper. Not just for ourselves, but for the sake of others, so that they may gain everlasting knowledge from our defeats and from our victories.
Much preparation has gone into the making of this reaccountment. I had to visit many old friends and a few enemies. I retraced our steps through Pylasia, returned to those sites of great importance, so that I could give you a document as accurate as possible.
But forgive me if my story focuses more upon my own journey. After all, I am telling it. Why shouldn't it be about me?
Now, I sit in bed, a lonely candle illuminating the room, pen and parchment before me. My lover, you know him well, sleeps soundlessly beside me. I think back, forgetting the notes I have to aid me, to recall where our adventures first began. And I remember. Though I am miles from the nearest coast, the smell of sea-salt drifts towards me. My senses and my mind return to the bow of that massive ship. I remember a young girl, mature to the world, but naive to her own heart. It seemed most of us innocent in one way or another.
Yes, that was where our story began.
