I can't sleep anymore. The image of Beerdale's mangled body, thrown to the ground by that flying beast, haunts me.
We were heading toward Sylaire in search of cure for Harlin, when a horrific, scaled creature swooped down upon us without warning. It took all of us to bring the beast down. Our mercenaries fired arrow after arrow, while Beerdale and Bettori stood their ground, swinging their blades in wide arcs. But even as it fell, the creature lashed out, its tail snapping like a whip. We managed to defeat it, but at what cost?
I can't stop thinking that I should have done more. Perhaps if I hadn't hesitated, Beerdale might still be with us. I must stop obsessing over what I can't undo.
Now, I sit by the campfire, staring at the creature’s fang in my hand. Perhaps crafting a pendant from the beast fang will help me banish this haunting memory... Yes, I will do it as a way to honor Beerdale’s sacrifice!
Working with the creature's fang feels like carving into the memory itself, each scrape of the blade a step toward acceptance, or so I hope. When it’s finished, I will offer it to Beerdale's family as a tribute. Perhaps this small act will help ease the burden of his loss... or at least quiet the memories that refuse to leave me in peace.
But peace feels like a distant dream. Our group is growing smaller by the day. Deep down, I know my time is coming. I can feel it in my heart, I am certain I will be the next to fall.