multiple times, always nearly escaping. Only yesterday, as I crossed a decaying wooden bridge across a raging waterfall, the shadows tried to thrust a knife at me as soon as I finished crossing. Rather than suffering what would follow, I plunged into the waters below, hoping the near 60 ft drop will not crush my lungs, and that the unnamed river will not become my watery grave. Miraculously, I survived the impact and I swam until I reached land once more. As I sat drying in the sun, I could not help but fondly recall my life before the shadows. However, the shadows had taken away everything. My memory. My childhood. My family. The only thing I could recall was the blazing fire, the devilish look on the shadows’ faces, and my mother’s last words. For my mother’s sake, I must go on. Despite the indescribable pain, and the gnawing hunger, I must forget my pain to complete this journey. My mother’s last wish will be heeded.
November 25, 1887
The days have grown shorter, and I can no longer cover as much distance as I had back when I first embarked on this perilous journey. The days are no longer warm, and now, instead of the warm breezes filled with scents of falling leaves and the babbling of the river, there is nothing. It is deathly quiet. I have not seen any shadows for about a month. Instead of rejoicing at this fact, it causes quite a concern. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there is a nagging thought that the shadows have gotten ahead of me, and are waiting at the monk’s temple. But it will not be long until I figure out whether my disturbing thought is true. Just this noon I spotted the wooden poles protruding from the roof. I will arrive at the latest tomorrow by nightfall.
November 26, 1887
This morning, around dawn, I reached the vicinity of the temple. No lights were on, and no monks could be seen, which I thought was odd. I decided until I have made myself presentable before barging into the temple. I would not want the monks thinking I was some barbaric savage, here to plunder their temple. As soon as I reached the nearest creek, I splashed my ashen face with ice-cold water. I could not believe what I saw being reflected at me on the surface of the clear tranquil water. It looked as if I had aged more than 30 years in this near four-month journey. My hair and my beard reached lower than my shoulders, and I did look like a barbaric savage. Despite the situation I was in, I could not help but let out a small smile. The clothing I had been wearing in the beginning of my journey could no longer be recognized. The colors had faded, and impregnated with so much grime and dirt that it looked as if I was wearing a tunic made of mud.And around my grimy neck was the golden amulet, the cause of all this sorrow, the cause of the death of my family, and the cause of the death of so many