The Errant Journal I

The Aetheryte Plaza in Limsa Lominsa is always a busy place filled with shuffling feet of all shapes and sizes, and noises from a multitude of moods and mannerisms, but the smell of the sea is as persistent and singular as the aether itself.

Along your way, a small tattered book catches your eye. All but the first page have been torn out or made otherwise illegible - whether by weather or by wound. It's obviously been here for a while, trapped in a corner with all the other refuse.

[. . . there is no date written]

Is it true? Are the gates of Ishgard to be opened? So far it’s only a rumor, but I know I am no longer safe here. I know I haven’t written in this journal for quite a while, but it’s time I get this out and off my chest.

I never found him. All the traces of his scent have vanished from the trail. My bastion and sa. . . [ILLEGIBLE] . . .ndoned me. I lost Alona Rhys. She was my rock and I fear she is dead too. I took advantage of many a pirate and patron to feed my hatred of the empire. I took their gil and fought a private war I could never win. I hate myself.

But what I hate so much more is how I’ve given up. Yes, I’ve been hiding in Ishgard. Yes, I smuggled myself in illegaly. Yes, I can’t face those after me, but I can run no longer.

I will atone for my sins.

While the world floods through the gates of iced stone and steel, I shall return to the sea.
— unknown