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Dear Reader,

I’ve just watched my lover and my child as they were killed, and there was nothing I could do about it. I barely managed to escape with my life, but not my shoes. My dearest two now rest silently as our home burns around their bodies. The flames will cremate them, and the winds shall spread their ashes as the sun rises, as the last ember burns out.

My heart aches with pain, and there is nothing in this world that can bring me release except for my own death. Before that, I will write you this letter so that my generations voice will not be lost on the winds like my families ashes by tomorrow. As my tears stain this paper, I hold in my hand the awe of how quickly things changed since yesterday. My daughter laughed as the blossoms from the tree tickled her sweet face, and I held her. One of the last times I would in her life.

The words I am about to write here may very well be the last ever written, ever read, or ever remembered from my generation and those from before me. So please read with care. This is not the first day that hearts have been stricken with pain, that families have been ripped apart, or killed together on such a scale as is happening tonight. I’ve been told stories of my ancestors who were threatened by random death at the hands of a variety of Demons, similar to the ones that have just wreaked havoc upon my life, which has known little more than peace...