Journal Entry, Unknown Date

Azrael, Harbinger Of The Lightsworn
 

Before me rises an ancient wall of pine greens and scattered yellows, tall and unwavering. Relief, even joy, might fill me, if only my thoughts were clearer. Instead, they drift aimlessly, like the wandering fragments of a dream. It’s been three days, I think, since my stolen horse fell beneath me. The infection in my wound shows no sign of easing. If a wild beast were to find me now, I would not be strong enough to resist. My only remaining hope is to find other outcasts hidden among the steadfast sea of trees.​