Запятнанный красным дневник

The red-stained diary is a lore scrap, found on a pile of boxes in Крепость Сильверторн's courtyard before heading up the stairs.

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There are strange visitors to these lands, people I never expected. Unsettling, pale elves who arrive in the night and stay for an evening asking us very unusual questions. I don’t even know why we let them in. It was as if they belonged here… as if they had a right to be here.

We spoke of travel and family, of loss and of love. They asked me about the scar on my lip and the way I hold my sword at an angle. I told them about my first crush, even though I’d never shared his name with anyone.

Then there was the talk of loss. Loss, like it was happening right then. A bottle spinning, fingers pointing, a choice we never chose to make. We lost someone that night, didn’t we? I don’t remember who, but there’s a hole there where a person should be. A shadow over my memories.

A locked room, where no one has the key.

I remember laughter, dancing and eyes like perfect rubies sparkling in the dazzling night. I remember his lips on mine, cold and tasting of metal, and then… nothing.

Their names. I don’t remember those elven names. You’d think you’d remember something like that. It’s not like we see many elves, not since that bard passed through a while ago. I feel like I should know them.

But, like all those empty rooms, somehow, I forget.