Handwritten Entry, Threshold

We have still found no sign of Reller. My heart pounds with silent fear and my vision swims with anger at my helplessness. Yulte agreed to watch Festal for a few days. I told her I would be ranging farther to look for signs of my eldest son. My heart aches to imagine what may have befallen him, especially if

No. I will not conjecture. I have paced the woods by the path until I found the doorway again, the trees stronger and taller than I recalled. My hand shakes to think it has been nearly two decades since I last traveled.

Wait. Reller cut his hand. What if he was wandering the forest, thinking of my stories? I saw a dark smear upon the bark, though whether that is the scar of my own blood from so long ago, or that of my son’s from yesterday, I cannot tell.

I must leave immediately if I hope to rescue my son. Anything could be waiting on the other side. For that, I must be ready, and I leave my farewell in this journal. Yulte, I am sorry if I do not return. You have always been kind to me. Take care.

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