February 18, 22,015 B.F.P.

Upon this fateful date, a year's cycle completed, the ink flows once again—a testament to a respite in the relentless storm that has raged within me. The echoes of my thoughts find solace upon this parchment, as I reclaim the power to articulate the turmoil that has consumed me.

A compulsion, an unyielding need to shield Luseiru, courses through my very veins—a current of emotion that defies restraint. Like a sentinel, I stand guard over her, my heart a fortress built of unwavering determination. The newfound strength that has blossomed within me, a gift borne of the Duarsht Dekir's touch, has gifted me the ability to traverse the realms of shadow. I have become a vessel of power, transformed by this malevolent entity, my capabilities now surpassing the boundaries of mortal comprehension.

The being that once concealed its identity behind the moniker "Duarsht Dekir" has now unveiled its name—The Dark One, a title that reverberates through the corridors of my thoughts. He, the first and most potent of his kind, possesses desires akin to my own—a consuming need to protect Luseiru, bound by the tendrils of shared emotion. The revelation pierces through the obscurity that surrounds his actions, laying bare the connection that weaves our fates together.

He confided that his initial possession of Luseiru was not driven by malevolence, but by a love as profound as the very depths of my own heart. In his embrace, she was both vessel and beloved—a paradox that now resonates with a haunting familiarity. The symmetry of our emotions, a shared devotion, is a testament to the intricate web that binds us.

Yet, this revelation has only further ignited the turmoil within—a confluence of emotions, desires, and struggles that clash with fervent intensity. The words, a relentless mantra that ceaselessly reverberates within my mind—"Protect Luseiru, Protect Luseiru," a battle cry that demands my unwavering devotion. The repetition is a symphony of urgency, a plea that tears through my psyche with unyielding force.

As the darkness threatens to overwhelm me, I stand at a crossroads—a lone figure amidst the storm, torn between the duties that bind me and the shadows that now cloak my existence. The burden of this knowledge, the power that courses through me, is a weight that threatens to consume my very soul.

In this moment of vulnerability, I inscribe these words—a plea for guidance, a cry for help that echoes through the hollows of my being. The pages, once a sanctuary for reflection, now bear the scars of my inner torment—a testament to the turmoil that churns within. May these words find their way to compassionate eyes, to those who can guide me through this labyrinth of emotion and conflict. As the ink dries, the echoes of my struggle continue—a symphony of anguish that paints the landscape of my existence, a landscape shrouded in uncertainty and beseeching for salvation.