The words of Drakajir

These are the words of Drakajir, Daroth's son of the Red Blades, inflamed with honour. May they tell you, who come after us, of the end of all days, when the Forsaken came upon us and we died in battle. For I doubt no more, that we will die. The end will come. I have no fear, only sorrow that we were not stronger than the enemy.

Today we reached the holy shrine. A dozen of Daroth's sons and the honourable fire dancer Maray. We prayed and fought with daggers to honour Ignis in the jade sand. Maray danced and then she called Ramish to her. I enjoy the wine and the sacred earth on which I lie. Ignis, our flame burns hot, even when times are dark.

Yesterday Zedjai went west. He seeks a glorious death. Five went with him and there are not many left to hold this position. I have sharpened my spear. They will come, I have no doubt, and I will destroy them while blood still runs through my veins.

Ramish says we should leave like the others, but I am sure this is my place. This is sacred ground. I feel closer to the fire than ever before. The earth is filled with the power of the elements. Where the power of the land is particularly strong, blood moss grows, red and glorious in its splendour. Sometimes I go there to meditate, but mostly I tend the shrine. It has become my home now that the flame of our people is being smothered by the Black Ice.

Nothing lives in the west any more. The enemy has already come over the mountains. There are to be towns still holding out on the coast in the east. The last embers of the dying fire. I rarely get news from afar. Most have gone or fallen. I am alone. But Ignis is with me.

I hear that in Khalyatar many are gathering around the honourable Medina to go north. There a Fire March shall become our new home. Those who have been loyal to Merty'Ar and those who have known the truth stand together now. That is good. But too many have fallen. As fire consumes wood, war consumes its children. It is the way of things.

Sometimes wrath flares hotly within me when I think of the Forsaken striding across the soil of this land. Then I want to take my spear and go out to meet them until I can avenge what they are doing to my people. But then I feel the power of the land around me and I know that my place is here.

I am alone. Everyone else has left or fallen. I miss the community. Yesterday I drank the last of my wine. What remains is only the warmth of the fire I stoke every night. And the battle that awaits me. I am ready.

This morning I found blood moss in the forest and it was black. The enemy is here. It is time to exchange the pen for the blade. The rest of my story will be written in blood. Ignis, I do not ask for your help, for you have already given me all I need. I am war, I am passion. I am Daroth's son. Let the Forsaken tremble.