Zenith

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The book before you is filled with mindless sketches done out of boredom.
The words on the pages seem to be written in pure arcane gibberish.
 It would take countless years to decipher their meanings, but the more one focuses upon the symbols, the more likely unshakeable words may linger in their mind.

The horizon is alight.

With power alone, through slain fate.

THE ZENITH AWAITS.

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This drawing depicts a lone figure standing in a desert, staring outwards.

It's as if it's staring back at those gazing upon it.

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An earlier entry found near the beginning of the book reads in common.
An exception in comparison to the rest.

The dreams are unceasing, for not even a moment am I able to close my eyes.
My friends surround me as we travel further west, seeking ample challenge in the dead of winter. As to be expected, we run into trouble along the way, yet something is different.
As I prepare my magic for the encounter and begin my approach, I lose control over everything.
My own power escapes me and tears my comrades and the creatures asunder.

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It takes me a moment to process things...

The extent of what has just happened...

I am left reeling on my knees in the mist of viscera and blood I have just created.

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I am forced to walk back in disgrace and dejection.
Everything undone by the very power that has allowed me to come thus far.

The realization that in my circumstance, in my reality, that I am truly alone... finally strikes.

Why couldn't I have joined them?

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And then I woke up.

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Once more the words return to normalcy as the pages turn and the arcane text continues.

I look back upon my former self these days.
Who I used to be. What I sought.
Nothing but a shell, hollow yet filled with an unending hate.
The revenge I sought.

The taste of blood in my mouth.
The week long hunt.
My hands, now forever dirtied with the rancid black ooze from their carcasses.
How badly I wish I could do it all over again.
To make it quick.
To lay them to rest properly.
Anything but the complete annihilation I rendered unto them.

I had thought by undoing the actions of the deranged, and fulfilling my personal vendetta...
Everything would turn out fine.
It had to.

Yet I only felt more hollow than before.
How eager I was to delve into every untapped facet of the land, to release everything I could with the hopes something would eventually be able to overpower me and end my madness.
The final death I yearned so harshly for.

Now I realize I have so much more to do.
I will not render myself a failure, I owe it to them to find peace.
My chosen torture makes me stronger.
I refuse this fate thrust upon me with all of my being.

Look into the mirror, kinslayer.
I will carve my own.

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This page is left nearly bare, save for five symbols.

At the bottom, there is a singular letter.

O

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My approach hastens.
Little stands in my way now.
I will continue to do what I must.

It's all finally within my grasp.

This page is one of the most recent.
Burn marks skew across this page's surface, as if lightning had brushed upon it.