Shard Hunters

Journal Entry Two

1 Andrasnys Febwell of the Red Age

I waited at the top of the mountain for most of the day. They’re slow. They’re weak. I had to go back down the mountain with Voltag, the only one to reach the summit, only to find most of them dying along the path.

Karasht was bleeding out, asking for death. Dekuuna was on his deathbed. And from what? Little goblins and tiny humans with ridiculous dreams of being Shard Hunters! I’ll train them, certainly. I have to. How they got this far in life I’ll never know.

Voltag and I wrangled together the group, spending the better part of that day and the next tending to their wounds. That night, I hoped and prayed that we found The Makyne empty of other warriors and beasts, for their sake. But I knew this would not be the case.




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