Journal of Naradra Lueltana

I have lost my purpose since arriving in Lazareth. The troubles of this land have spread and consume my time. But what is time, really?

These people come and go so quickly. Their lives so short. I knew a man, he was good, his purpose seemed pure. But he is gone now, like so many others. That is how they are, like sparks from a fire, disappearing even as they reach for the heavens. I do not mourn for Jake, for he burned brighter than the others, and left a warmth in his passing.

And I have met with them, those known here as the Tree People. They are not unlike myself, and yet are so different. Perhaps if I choose to stay in this land… but no, there is still so much to do…

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