Rise of the Obsidian Legion: Entry 17

Lynch’s Journal #132

I have yearned so long to bask in the beauty of the yellow sign. Slowly following its curves with my eyes, it gives me great pleasure to trace its image upon my forehead.

It is all I have ever wanted.

It means more to me than anything in this world and beyond.

Even my beloved Amara.

Amon, Lithia and Balasar look on with their twist maws signing the melodic hymns of the King. Their chorus is pleasant to my ears. Through them the yellow sign speaks to me, ushering me to the union with it that I have so desperately craved.

But something works against the bonding. A strength that matches the power of the divine. I fight against it with every fiber of my being. I am so close to become one with the sign. Nothing will stop be from being whole.

I can hear the faint screams of horror somewhere in the distance. My friends, now faithful to the sign, begin to creep around the library in search of them. The voice are familiar to me, like a lost memory within my mind. It hurts me to search for it. My precious sign feels the pain as well.

Its power grows, pushing against this unseen forcing trying to stop our holy union. The screams grow louder in retaliation, overpower the strength of my beloved. They become more distinct as they take over.

Louder and louder.

Closer and closer.

Clearer and clearer.

With the mighty roar of a dragon my faithful friends of the sign vanish. The chorus of the king fades away. A grip with the strength of a hill giant holds my arm in place. In my trembling hand a bloody dagger stares me in the face. I can feel the tickle of blood running between my eyes and down the my cheek.

Balasar holds me firm by the wrist, roaring in my face to fight whatever has bewitched me. Hearing sobbing over to my right, I look to see Prince Amon holding his wife tightly. Lithia has tears running down her face as the horror begins to leave about what I have done.

Then the sharp pain hits me. Something has scrapped against my forehead. The look on the paladin’s face says it all.

I had did so with the dagger.

The yellow sign had finally found me in this world. I was too weak to defend myself from its hold on me.

My body goes weak at the realization. As I drop to my knees the copperborn quickly grabs my armor to hold me upright. Taking measure to make sure I can do no more harm to myself, Balasar kicks the dagger away as soon as it hits the floor.

The leather tome laid open by his boot reveal empty pages. I frantically pick it up, thumbing through its pages and find nothing, not a trace of the sign remains. Hopeless washes over me knowing it is lost.

Something soft caresses my shoulder. Lithia locks my gaze, looking for an answer. Tears well in my eyes. I lose all control of my emotions for the first time since Remy’s death many years ago. There is only one thing left to do, tell them a secret that I can no longer keep.

I reveal the madness Novak struck me with during our final battle in the throne room of Icewall Castle. Every tale of my death brings a twitch to my eye. The throbbing in my head intensifies with each breath. With every word spoken I can hear the gibberish echoing in my skull.

Despite the relief of finally telling those who I consider family my tale of horror, the thought of it all promises another sleepless night.

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