Cleo the Crazed's Journal

## Entry One

I see it. I sit on the border between life and death and I see it. I see the fire. I see the hatred. I see the anger. The eyes of a devil are so often haunting sights. He stood over me at the abyss. The point where it all ends, and he laughed. He saw me in my every form, but I saw him as he was then - this was soon to be changed. With but a finger he Periander keeps saying that there is no cure. However, he has always been a rather negative person.

Nonetheless Diogen died, he's dead - he died. That doesn't stop him from accompanying me, talking to an old sop like myself. He's quite the same though he seems to have lost his face. Yes Diogen taught me many things. Diogen taught me many things. Now I know that death isn't an end. Life and Death - they are the same. Two ends of a seamless continuum.

How easily the veil of illusion can be lifted, how obvious it was that death is not an end, but a beginning. It was this exact fact that worried Mithral, but he's always worrying about something. Mithral spoke to me, through the ghosts and through the visions. I saw the others and I saw the moment but I didn't see the truth. I tried to tell Mithral and the others about Him, but then the truth flooded the room and I saw the eye and the eye saw me and we gazed into each other as I saw the spirits of the dead.

Then the walls loomed over me, the great walls of the Eye's Sanctum and the walls yelled down at me - calling my name and asking questions. Oh the torment, As I clutched my ears and closed my eyes trying to drown it all out, especially the screaming. A scream so horrible and so horrific that my bones trembled and my skin tried to flee from my body, then the screaming continued and I realized that the screaming was my own.

## Entry Two

The screaming. Sometimes it wakes me up. In my dreams I'm old and shriveled, covered in a sickening gray-colored skin and long flowing beard. I'm shaken by these dreams, and I fear they may even be prophetic. I'd tell father, but he cares not. Too busy in the Arcanum with Pittacus.

*HE* should be the one with the visions. He is Old Vassos' 'wisest sage.' Why should I, at the simple age of only twenty be receiving such visions? It's madness! This whole place is madness! I'm madness!

[There seems to be a half page's worth of intelligible scribbling, looking as if it was scrawled in rash anger]

In any case, Periander made an interesting suggestion on how to get to Kilead. Dior and Jr., I fear, have had near enough. My already shattered family did not fare well when I took them from our home. The only thing keeping me going on days like this is the knowledge that my dear Dior stands by my side - even if Jr. is still resentful.

The rain pours mercilessly outside, dousing the flames of ~~Kilead~~ Old Vassos surely. Still I can't get the noises I heard behind me out of my head. They haunted me. Now they lead me, faceless, out of the Tore my mind from my body, and condemned me to the fate of my father. I remember little, but I always remember the name - Ba'al Berith. It sits in the back of my head, his voice mocking me.

The devil took everything, and won't even give me the knowledge that I wish for most - did Alroy survive? Was my sacrifice enough? I would give more to save him if I could, every bone and bit of flesh. If only *I* could have died - but the monster killed him. And now I am cursed for eternity to be caught in this loop, to never know my son's fate. The monster killed him..... then he killed me.

## Entry Three

There are moments of clarity, days that are better than others. It's these 'better days' that I dread and fear; for it is these days that I am confronted with the grim truth of reality. My mind - my very being - sacrificed away for my dear son.. and I don't even know  if it bloody worked.

Doubt pervades my spirit however, as I remember the cunning look in The Devil's eyes. I realize now the curse had more consequences than first assumed - I fear The Devil will never allow me to know the fate of my beloved son. My poor son.

My poor dog. I know not where Jr. resides now, as in my initial madness I had forgotten him completely - the poor misplaced pup followed me dutifully, hoping I might recognize and acknowledge him; however on our escape from Kilead he was lost - along with Gilheart and Tucker.

Now, I sit in thought missing the dog. I must accept he is gone - much like everything in my life. Some days I remember Dior's leaving, and I lie awake late into the night ..... if only it were not too late to apologize. I would apologize for my behavior, how I've treated her and the boy; I would apologize for distracting her from her prophetic quest; I would apologize for dragging her across the isle to find a city on a dusty map; and most of all I would apologizefor losing our son.

What an embarrasment I am - to myself, to my family, to all of Old Vassos. I ran like a coward. I should have stood my ground, even if it meant dying along with the sages. Now I know they are dead. I feel their spirits watching ... I wish I could join them. Leave this pitiful existence behind...I even tried. Just two days ago I wandered to a brook, where I had intentions of throwing myself into the running water and sinking to the bottom.

However as soon as the water touched my skin I was back in the wilds around Old Vassos, exploring an old creek and splashing and romping about as children do. Such a useless sop am I that I cannot even put an end to my miserable life. What a deploarble wreck I am - I deserve this fate.

## Entry Four

Today I visited father again. Still his distracted eyes do not focus. Still he doesn't hear me. Still he won't acknowledge me. What is this ? What sort of punishment? Is he doing this to spite me, just as he did when he took away everything I worked for? Does he want my pity? He shall have none. My whole life my father has never given a damn and now he expects me o give one because he's finally gone senile.

Yet how can I make accusations? How is this fair of me? If my mother were alive what would she say? Probably something along the lines of "Anger repaid with hatred leaves no room for forgiveness." A wise woman, she was. Yet how can I forgive this man? This wicked father of mine, he was a curse upon me my whole life. Yet now, even after all he put me through, he can't even look at me. He won't listen to my words - read my letters. I do not exist to him.

What have I done to deserve this is all I find myself yet I feel The Darkness ever-enroaching over my soul. Father is close to death - he lies on his deathbed. What's worse is I can hear their cries and screams at night - the gnolls have returned. Dark Days await, my darkest ever, and yet there are none left for me to confide in. Father won't hear me, and Pittacus isn't doing much better health wise. He's still recovering from the illness.

Lonely nights like these I miss my youth. Stealing a few bottles of Fermented Tree Sap from old Carnassus, venturing out into the Gleam-tree forest around Old Vassos with Diogen and Pittacus, and drinking the night away. Now, diminshed by darkness, I am nothing but a shadow of who I was.

To other Vasoans I am the cause of their great sage Ezekiel's insanity and Periander's death - and thus I am the cause of the sages' parting ways. They know nothing of me - but they make their assumptions and never care to speak to me. Now I know what it is to be truly alone in this world, for I am the only person that I can confide in. The screams call louder now, as I fear gnolls approach and my home trembles in anticipation, shaking and seemingly trying to free itself from the ground so as to run.

I yearn for death, for an end to this pain that I now live through, yet I know in my heart of hearts that it is pointless. For I have seen the existence of beyond, and I have gazed into the eyes of death not once but twice; yes I have seen death and I know it is not an end, but rather it is an existence even more miserable and pathetic than this one. The screaming pounds against my walls now, as my shelves and books are knocked to the ground. The screaming is so loud that it deafens me and I cannot even hear my own inner voice. Death comes for us all - like a stalking tiger it waits for the right time to strike and drag you to it's world of darkness - a world that has no easy escape.