August 19, 1887
As the sun reached its zenith, and its rays were glaring onto my back, I finally reached the foot of the mountains. I have been camping near the creek that runs down from the mountain peak, gathering provisions I will need for my ascent. There is no telling when I will be able to drink or eat next. Today as I sat filling up on mountain berries, I was filled with hope. The pursuers were not seen for a long time. Perhaps they believe me to be dead? I do hope they have given up. This evening, I started my climb. The path covered with rocks and prickly vines, have already injured my fragile body. By nightfall, I came across a clearing where I stopped to spend the night.
September 21, 1887
Only now do I see how wrong I was. My pursuers have far from given up. They had been silently following me, step by step, vying for the perfect time to attack. From now on, they will be called the shadows. Shadows follow you everywhere. They are just not visible at night, or on cloudy days. Shadows are silent, and sometimes you do not even realize they exist. My pursuers are like shadows. They have been following me for some time now, without me realizing. Last night, as I was just falling asleep, I heard the crunching of leaves. Oh thank the lord, if it weren’t for the leaves, I would have been long dead by now, my throat slit, and the amulet in their hands. They also know of my plan to go to the monk’s temple. Now, instead of taking the easier, flatter path, I must go on the side route, a rugged, serpentine path covered by vines, and branches. It will be dangerous, but at least they will hide me from the shadows, perhaps keep me alive long enough to discover the true meaning of the object that has already caused so much death and disaster.
September 23, 1887
The side route was far more dangerous than I thought. My leg is now fractured, and I can only walk at a snail’s pace, with the help of a pair of crude crutches I devised from a nearby branch, and a rope of taut vine. It has been three days since I last ate, my provisions long depleted. I attempted to appease the growling monster within me, forcing in dead grasshoppers and worms, and dug up plant roots. I have not seen any shadows since that fateful night when I was on the brink of death. All I remember is them trying to catch me with a net as I leaped away, soon blanketed by the night’s gloom.
October 14, 1887
A long time has passed since I fractured my leg. Thankfully, the leg quickly healed, and by now, I am more than halfway up the mountain. I do not know how long it will be until I reach the monk’s temple, but I do hope it will be soon. I have already been attacked by the shadows