text: This will be my first entry, as I feel that, for the moment, I'm safe enough to record this account. I'm not even sure these words will ever be read by another soul, but the witch did say that, so long as I filled the pages of this journal with this particular ink, its contents would reach someone, somehow. I never much cared for quill and parchment, but I suppose it couldn't hurt to try. Let me start by introducing myself. My name is Isaac Jacobs. I was born in the small village of Thrawlst, just north of the Coarsha River, I shall disclose no more of my home than that - for reasons soon to become apparent. At the present, I'm twenty-seven years of age, but I feel as if the dread that fills me could suffice to send me to an early grave. We're it not for this journal, I would be utterly alone. I've been running from it for longer than I can accurately attest, and I know not how much longer I can endure its chase. I should be thankful of my abilities, I suppose, for were it not for them I could not run between the worlds, and would likely have been caught by now. Though, it is possible, if what the witch told me is true, that this thing only nips at my heels because of my ability to do just that. I realise that reading this will raise many questions, and I shall try to answer them all in earnest. I discovered some years back - fourteen, if memory serves - that I could visit other worlds. I can't quite explain the process involved, but I suppose it's like fading from one world and arriving in the next, like being born, but fully grown. The world in which I am a visitor of just now, it seems, is empty apart from myself. There are indeed structures, manmade it would appear, but alas the world seems empty, as though everyone has left it behind. I can't say I care for such an atmosphere, but as soon as I'm able I should like to leave this one behind. Maybe I'll return to the last one I visited, I should like to ask the witch a few more questions. The journal she gave me, besides it carrying the words of my pen across - as she claims - time and space, it's apparently able to bring message back from those who have read it. This, though peculiar indeed, is something I would be utterly grateful for, it's been so long since I've spoken to anyone. But I spoke of a chase, and should this first entry also prove my last, it must needs contain the core reason for my writing it. A warning. In my travels across the worlds, and of the many cultures I've seen, and of all the different events that fill the pages of all the written histories, there is, I have found, something they all share in common. A connection. This pathway between worlds was something that I thought only myself capable of traversing, but I was wrong, very wrong. There is, among the countless stars and worlds of the universe, an energy, a presence. It is a living, conscious memory that encompasses all that has existed, and all that will. It does not know time, and it does not know distance, it has no beginning, or an end. It is called The Fade. It silently feeds off of the worlds that find themselves connected by this unseen pathway, and in return it fills them with something, a sort of energy similar to its own design. Though, for what purpose I can only guess. The witch told me that the entity that is the Fade seeks to consume all of existence. The reason it chases me is likely because I have intruded on its otherwise private domain. I wish I had never learned to jump between worlds, perhaps I would have married that girl. I like to think on what could have been, it fuels me to some degree. Maybe I'll go home one day, but I dare not risk the Fade learning where I come from, so perhaps it is best I not return there. But, back to the present. The witch told me of this world. She said there was someone here that could help me throw the Fade off my trail. She did not say exactly who it was that I was looking for, but she gave me a piece of parchment with a rather odd drawing on it. Seven figures sat at a long table, with one eye each. So far, as I've said, it seems that I'm the only one here. Perhaps I'm wrong though, but if that picture she gave me is of any real likeness to whom I seek, I'm somewhat nervous of the encounter. I would feel safer if I stopped writing now. I know I'm still safe for the moment, but I haven't much ink, and concerning the nature of what it's supposedly capable of doing, I shouldn't want to watse it all on my first testament. I thank you, whoever you are. Though you may not reply to this, believing that you've read it is enough for now. Though I do hope to learn your name, I remain sceptical of this journals abilities. We shall see.