(Written in Sylvan, the handwriting beautiful but faint and trembling, on a beautiful sheet of paper.)
Ahrg, again…
We opened the great door to Dibarra. Children—chained to him through memory and suffering… We freed them from their torment; some were sent home, others—I hope—moved on. It is her design… what I do is right. We brought light into the battle; the shadows were their parents… Dibarra tears families apart, he has no shame in doing so…
It was a hard fight. Everyone is wounded, each in different ways. Yuri seems… different—distant, hollow, much like Steam. Alizée and I are weak and spent. But Dibarra is once more sealed within his prison—an hourglass with his tower inside.
I am going to bed now.