The journal was old. Leather-bound. Yellowed pages covered in faded ink.
Alex held it in his trembling hands, staring at the words that had been written decades ago. Words that told the story of his father. The man he had never known. The man Arabella had killed.
He had found the journal hidden in the Wellspring's cave. Tucked away in a crevice, as if waiting for him to discover it.
And now, sitting alone in his quarters, he was reading it for the first time.
*My son. If you're reading this, then I am dead, and you have found your way to the Wellspring. I'm sorry I never got to meet you. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from the fate that awaits you.*
*But I need you to know the truth. The truth about your heritage. The truth about the Primus. The truth about the war.*
Alex read on,
