Outside howled the fiercest storm that the county had seen in ages. The blackness of the sky bled down to the earth below, with occasional bolts of lightning flashing throughout the land, providing a brief yet blinding illumination. The trees were swaying from side to side due to the powerful gusts of the whistling wind; several had already fallen throughout the woods. Though the chaos of the storm was severe, there was only one thing that remained unmoved. Standing out in the distance of the front yard was a lone stranger dressed in dark clothing, wearing a black hood over his head. The darkness of his presence seemed more haunting than the terror of the storm itself. His hood and black trench coat made his identity unrecognizable to anyone standing afar. His clothes battered and fluttered in the wind, and the rain soaked him to the bone, yet he did not move an inch. He fixed his eyes sharply upon the white mansion and nothing else.
The pages of the diary were old and worn, much like the letter. The writing was in a beautiful cursive that looked to have been written by a fountain pen. Pulling the candlelight closer, Virginia took her time and began to read:
March 17, 1886
It's springtime, and I want to say that the birds are singing, the flowers are blooming, and the sun is shining. To my great regret, not one of these delights is present. As of this moment, I'm sitting in my room, trapped inside my new house like a prisoner by what appears to be the most dreadful storm I have ever seen. Back home in England, we have endured plenty of rains and storms, but I have never had to sit through something this dark and horrific. The sky is black, and the wind constantly blows with an unearthly, screechy whistle. However, the storm does not bother Papa. Like any man seeking a fortune, he desires to make a profit and is willing to fight through any storm that comes his way. Throughout my life, he has always taken the most severe risks and almost lost all his investments; however, to my mother's and my surprise, he always came back with ten times the fortune of his investment. Being a businessman and the owner of a newspaper company, it comes as a natural drive for him—almost like a game of some sort. All our friends back home admired his skill in finance and always sought his wisdom on what they should and should not invest. Papa has tried to explain things like the stock market, but it's all Greek to my ears. I try to understand, but just when I think I understand it, I get lost again. I just sit and listen to him and pretend to understand, hoping it makes him feel good.
Even with his reputation, not one of them thought him sane after he announced his next big idea: to create an estate on American soil and expand his newspaper company on an international scale. When questioned about his sanity, his response to any and everyone was, "When you see me standing on higher ground than I am currently on, then come and tell me I was wrong."
Not weeks after proposing his newfound idea, Papa purchased one thousand acres of land in the mountains of a place known as Tennessee. Soon after his purchase, Papa had the blueprints of a new house to be constructed on the property, a grand mansion, and sent off the blueprints of the estate to be built immediately. Within a matter of months that seemed like weeks, the house was finished. We packed up our belongings and moved across the sea. After making port in North Carolina, our travels proceeded west to the mountains of Tennessee.
And so, here I am, now spending my seventeenth birthday imprisoned in my new home while a monstrous storm wages war outside my window. But all is not lost, for I have been given this new diary in which I will write down my thoughts, poems, and adventures in this new world. We have been living in our newly built home for only two days. Mother is skeptical about my venturing outside of the house to explore the land. She says there are savages out in the woods that could take me away and scalp me. I find this amusing, considering that neither Mother nor I have seen an Indian, yet she talks as if she knows so much about their nature.
I personally don't know why I'm here, but God willing, I'll find out. I believe that I will find out soon enough. Perhaps it is just to support my Papa's dreams and ambitions; nevertheless, all good things come to pass, and I firmly believe there is something here for me.
Sincerely,
Rose Annemarie Cohen
Virginia was entranced. This was a piece of history right in her hands for her eyes to witness. Mesmerized, she gently scrolled through the pages, jumping through the different dates. After carefully turning each page, she came across one specific chapter that looked different in its script. The penmanship was more scribbled than any other page of the diary, as if someone had rushed to write it. With squinting eyes, she tried to read what was suspected to be the writing of Rose Cohen.
Dear Reader,
I honestly do not know where to start. I shall begin with the fact that I praise God for being alive. So much has taken place.
Nothing went according to plan. Nothing. There was unity. The people were one. We almost won the battle! But evil slipped through our nets and dwelt among us in secret. It dressed like we dressed and talked like we talked, but its agenda was not our agenda. One by one, kings from all the nations fell under the leadership of Darkness and Shadow.
Please forgive me. My mind is completely turned upside down at all that has taken place. I only have limited time to write, but I have been granted only three days to write to you. I'm sorry, but for this, I must give you the short version. I do not know what events took place on which day, so, for this purpose, I have decided to put aside all traditional forms of dating my events and remain with just writing to you. Somebody must know what took place here. Somebody must know what this all used to look like before the land became divided.
Allow me to start from the beginning, back before I came to know the reality of the land of Alaythia.
Life could not be any more normal for me. One day, I asked Papa if I could take the carriage to Lucy's for afternoon tea. After he agreed to my request, he insisted I be back by dark.
Lucy and I spent hours talking with each other. Well, due to my losing track of the time, it was nearly sunset before I realized it. Instantly, I sent out for Henry to fetch the carriage. I was worried that Papa would be furious with me, but my worries soon changed.
The night was growing darker by the minute. In the distance, I heard the sound of wolves crying out. Their howling was dreadful but beautiful at the same time. Anyway, the night became complete, and darkness swept over the land. The cries of the wolves were closer to the carriage and sounded more dreadful than beautiful now that they were nearer. Henry brought the carriage to a stop. I stuck my head out the window to ask him why we had stopped, but he had no time to answer.
I do not know how else to write this or even begin to describe to you what happened next. I'm not even sure if anyone would believe me. A large dark creature leaped out of the woods, tackling Henry off the carriage. Its massive jaws clamped down upon his neck and dragged him off into the forest. There was so much blood. It was all over the ground. There was another wolf cry. Then, more of those creatures came. They surrounded the carriage. These beasts were unlike any I had ever seen before. They had green eyes, and the nails of their front paws were like razor-sharp claws. Their hair was thick with grease from being unwashed for what appeared to be years. Some of their bodies were so skinny that their ribs were showing; others were bulky like gorillas, yet they all possessed a hidden strength like I had never seen. Their claws ripped through the carriage like it was paper. They took me. I did not know what to think or how to react. I kicked, I fought, I struggled, and I screamed. But no one came. For days, these devils carried me across the mountains as their prisoner. I did not know where I was going, but I knew I was being escorted to my death.
There was a flash of lightning followed shortly by a mighty clap of thunder. Virginia jumped a couple of inches in her seat as if that blast had awakened her from a trance. She looked at the diary with extreme excitement as if this was a treasure that she had been hoping for. There was another clap of thunder followed by a rapid beating from downstairs.
Virginia paused for a moment to listen. What was that? It wasn't thunder.