Three months have passed since violent forces tore down the sprawling, wealthy city of Tharamant. At its center, they established a base camp and erected a towering, screeching facility. Rumors among the survivors say that the invaders force captured citizens to work there, building weapons in preparation to conquer the rest of the continent.
As many other survivors, a young Tharamantian with the name Vherendie found shelter in an abandoned steelwork in the outskirts of the city. She and her friends are preparing to leave the doomed city behind when a mysterious stranger asks for their help. Nesfalador, as the old man is called, claims to have found a way to end the occupation and liberate the poor souls enslaved by the invaders. His true intentions, however, are far more sinister than she wants to imagine…
It’s been a while since I’ve last seen her, and I thought I’d never hear of her again. Yet a few days ago, I received a collection of letters, and… aside from stirring up a lot of forgotten feelings, they reveal stories that I had no idea of. One of these stories begins just a couple of months after the invasion of Tharamant…
A stranger gave her a choice: Follow him and liberate a whole city from occupation or stay at her hidden, makeshift survivor camp that was constantly running out of food, water and room to sleep. But it was not only necessity calling for her. Glory gleamed from the tower at the far end of her road.
Accompanied by her friends and the stranger, she set out for Tharamant’s core, at which they believed to find an arms factory full of survivors, forced to construct weapons that would eventually used in the destruction of the whole continent
I can still see her bright eyes and feel the aura of her strong, pure mind when I read her words. She used to believe in our linear progression towards enlightened times, even when my studies suggested otherwise. That was, until I brought the rot into her mind. Working with me, she adapted some of my absolute worst traits, and the temptations of glory burned deep into her soul. Yet at the time, neither of us knew what was eating her from inside. When she set out to liberate Tharamant from overwhelming forces she still didn’t know. Blinded by the light of historic heroism, she already saw her name appearing in the history books of the coming age.
When they sneaked into the huge, towering factory, expecting to be greeted with open arms, she soon realized that the stranger had lied to her: The men and women working at the factory were well-fed and cared for, their families safely housed.
Having already lost one of her group prior to entering the factory, the realization that nobody wanted her false heroics drove Vherendie to the end of her patience, leading to a fight with unforeseen consequences.
Three of her friends had died while following her quest, and it was only with luck that the surviving few managed to escape the tower. It wasn’t enough that had she chased a hollow dream; her friends had placed their lives into her hands, and in turn she had betrayed that trust for personal gain.
The future looked grey, and the images and sounds of their final seconds would go on to haunt her over the years. It was this day that she decided which road she wanted to travel on. In spite of her mistakes, people were still looking up to her. They saw that she could find ways and opportunities, that she could provide hope and optimism even if she herself, deep inside, felt broken and incomplete.
Some of her days would see failure, but many of her days would make things better than they were before, for a lot of people.
This has been the personal log of Vedian Bordakane, late summer of Year 1411. May those who hear these words go in peace.
Transcripts of the audio logs of Vedian Bordakane
christoph-david volbers 