In your hands is a simple leather bound journal. Its pages are of crisp bleached paper and cut by a deft craftsman. The first reads: In service to Aragen, for the greater knowledge of all.
The following pages have a handful of ink splatterings. The handwriting is in a carefully practiced calligraphy, but the lines are half scratched out and unintelligible - marked as though someone began again and again, unsure of how to do so. Finally it seems the author gave up and started fresh on a new page entirely. The formerly laborious calligraphy gives way to a more fluid, natural handwriting.
"I've tried to begin this document a dozen times, but I can't find the voice, the perspective. I guess the only way I can is through my own.
I've set out on my own. After all the time within the monastery walls, this place seems so alien to me - so exposed. I can't describe the excitement I feel. The path seems like it could stretch out forever beyond these footsteps and I know not where it leads.
I don't know if that thought is awe inspiring or terrifying - perhaps both.
I miss my temple - it's libraries, it's gardens. I miss the people, the bustle - I even miss the chores. I'm homesick and its been but a scant few weeks.
I will go on. I will see the world and record every detail. I'll make you proud, Elifon.
All things in time."
