Journal Entree,
~Date x - xxx ~
A new world, a new collection of journals. I keep them because my memory isn't what it's used to be. Humans aren't meant to become this old, my age has affected my long-term memory mostly. I can not even remember my children's faces. But before I lost those precious moments I wrote everything down in a journal so that at least I could always read about them. The way they looked, what they were like, what had happened to them… That's what this book will be about; my memories, and my knowledge on the Eldritch Race and the Realm of Umbra where our palace Irkallah resides.
Where are my manners…
Allow me to introduce myself, I am Ra-Mh'ri-La; Slave-Queen of old Sumer and Egypt. Dark Mother to those who chose to follow me till the end of our world. Just titles now of a previous life. That empire is long gone now, swallowed by the sands of time. Oh, but you should've seen it. A glorious nation born from blood and magic. Reaching from sea to sea, even the deserts were mine. Every city that I conquered I gave them a choice; surrender and join me or die and feed my army. Their pride and stubbornness was the biggest obstacles and eventually led to their ends. That was a lot of power for a Queen who was once a slave. And for such a young race as 'humans' power was toxic.
I know now that back then I never ruled as a fair queen, or a just one. I ruled them with fear…I was a cruel woman, and a bloodthirsty one at that. I never should've done that, I should've remembered where I came from. That I was once like them, an equal who suffered just as much under the cruel hand of slave masters. My intentions were noble back in those -very- early years. But like I said, power is toxic…I learned from my mistakes now, and while it is far too late to amend them I try to treat my fellow (wo)man with kindness now and patience.
I am still ashamed about it. But don't get me wrong, I have not lost my wild ways despite just being a harem girl to my Pharaoh now.
Now, to whomever might read this in case I lost this journal. It is rare but one might never know when my goldfish brain decides to misplace this book and then forget about it. I can only hope that you, the reader whom I shall call 'hivya' from now on, would be gracious enough to return it to me. For what you hold in your hands are my memories, my secrets, my desires and my demons.
Just ask the imps that hide in the darkest corners of your home, they will guide you to me. With some luck you might even befriend one. Yes, there are imps in your home; in every home. In every building, every cave, every forest. Hiding in the darkest crevices as they shy away from the light. I'll explain this another time, for now it was a long day and I'm tired. I will write again soon.
