Diary Entry One
April 11th, 1718
What is time? Is it friend or foe?
I have dwelt on this question of late. I once resolved in myself to know the answer. Time is a friend that reminds us of all we have accomplished and all we have yet to do and enjoy. Now, however, I am not certain.
I have lived longer than I appear. I was born when time was recorded differently. Long has it been since we visited our homelands. Our home no longer exists for our people died out centuries ago. We are all that survived that culture; my Dymeka and myself. Segil and Izz still live as well, but they have all but forgotten our roots. They bear new aliases to hide their heritage; amalgamating with the passing time. Nij and Fadele only laugh at the mention of home. They have chosen to forget how truly wondrous it was and how foolishly we discarded it.
I record my thoughts now for the express reason I no longer feel safe confiding in my comrades. Dymeka understands, for he has always understood me. They all used to share in my intimate opinions, but in this last decade or so, I’ve noticed a change. My friends have changed. When looking at them now, analyzing their speech, I find no trace of my beloved brethren anywhere. It frightens me beyond measure to think that we may not last together in company another decade. Our views differ where once they were akin. In company, we chose this life. We all made the pact, swore an oath to be together for eternity. But eternity has taken a toll on all of us and I fear it will be our doom.
Could time truly be the knife that cuts us all in pieces, exposing our most vulnerable parts to destruction? Our greatest desire, greatest triumph could be our undoing. How did it come to this? After unnumbered years of wandering for pleasure, could it be possible that a separation is in order? Have we truly sunken so low as to come to this?
