It is a common thing for a man of stature to carry around written accounts of his exploits, especially one that has seen such things as I have. I do not pretend to have the penmanship of a writer, but the experiences I have had in this queer world is enough to make most storytellers green with envy. Here, in the bindings of leather and snakeskin, I have collected all of my journal entries. They won’t amount to much more than a penny dreadful or dime-store bauble, but what I have to say must be said before I die—if I die.
These entries are the accounts of my family, my posse, and the many acquaintances along the way that made it possible to find and defeat Stone. I learned many dark secrets about our world. I learned about the Manitou, the Maze, and the truth behind Ghost Rock; all of this keeps taking me closer to learning the true identity of the Reckoners. I was a fool to take this mission, but I’ve come too far to give up now. With any luck, this journal will end up in the dime store. If I don’t come back from the Edge, perhaps someone will be able to take my findings in these pages and finish the job.