Note by T.P.

 

Transcript:

[Logged: Day 314, T.P.]

    Don't stop running. Don't look back.

    They will not show any mercy. They know no pity. They will always be behind you, stalking you from behind, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike you down. You will fall off the fabric of reality, and it will be as if you were never there in the first place.

    You will go where people go after they die—raging fires that burn out the evil, torrents of water to drown out the impurity of the souls, and arenas streaming with blood mixed with the tears of victorious warriors.

    You won't go through the trials yourself, though. You will perform them—you will light up the first sparks, you will fill up the glass tanks with water, and you will throw people into the arena, along with their weapons and what is left of their dignity. You will do this every day and every night, for every month of every year for a hundred years.

    Then you will move on. Your mortal body would've been drained of your soul. Cleansed, they call it. The shadows' trials will cleanse your soul of its weaknesses: fragility, cowardness, and every single drop of your mercy. What happens next is only told in legends, with many variations thereupon. There have been rumors whispering of a path of molten iron that glows red-hot. The soulless body left will float down the path, the heat burning away the flesh until all that remains is a skeleton charred black.

    The skeletons will serve as a vessel for the shadow people, and they will continue the cycle until we all stop running and we all look back.

    This has been a warning to whoever reads this. I can tell you no more but can only pray for your life and mine. I don’t expect to come back alive.

    I have only one piece of advice for you.

    Run.

End of transcript.