Found in a diary, in an abandoned tower.
If you are reading this, then you must know that we have decided to leave this place. It wasn’t like we asked for this. No one asks to be chased out of their own home.
Before history and time ravage what little is left, allow me to record in these final moments what has happened here. May those of you that follow in our footsteps… understand the dangers of this place.
We did not build this clockower. We came across it when I was a young girl, as our family had been searching for a place to settle. We found this quiet little part of the island, back when Atma was barely explored, and put it in a claim to the local government for the land.
Over the years as the farm grew and we had more visitors, people just assumed we had gotten the technology for the tower from Xandria. No one bothered to ever correct them. Why did we need to? It helped us irrigate the land and process our harvests. We became wealthy. We became comfortable. And we buried the question of its origins deep down. Even as mama and papa left and I became the head of the family, we never bothered to ask where it came from.
All that changed not very long ago. Now I wonder what sorcery is this. I know that a section of the tower basement has caved in. I know that we have barely been able to defend ourselves. I know that we have lost people to the monstrous hordes that have come roaring out from the darkness.
A darkness that now stains my very soul.
We have managed to hold back the hordes for now. We are gathering our things and leaving. We know they will be back.
May the Gods have mercy.
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